


AfterShocks

by minkmix



Category: Dark Angel (TV), Supernatural
Genre: AU, Dean Winchester - Freeform, Hurt/Comfort, Sam Winchester - Freeform, Some comedy, all incarnations of said winchesters, lots of various POVs, new parents of an X-5, some dark stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-13
Updated: 2018-12-13
Packaged: 2019-09-17 11:29:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 24,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16973790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/minkmix/pseuds/minkmix
Summary: Hey-  Thus we begin the second saga 'AfterShocks' which picks up directly from where 'With a Bang Left' off.In the near future of 2020, the US went from super-power to third-world country in a matter of days. Due to a terrorist attack every computer and communications system in America was damaged and all digital information was instantly erased, effectively throwing the country into utter chaos.* Alec, a genetically engineered solider escapes the lab he'd been created in and is trying to survive the real world while avoiding being caught and sent back to his makers. Everything seems as good as it's going to get but he wasn't anticipating the two strange men that come to his door dressed in bad suits.But that's all over now.So after two worlds were done colliding and all three exploded, Dean drives his family (now with a new member) up north into no man's land.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This verse is pretty large. I intend to update often/weekly/when I have time until it's all up. 
> 
> And it goes in this order:
> 
> With a Bang - https://archiveofourown.org/works/15259845/chapters/35395707 - parts 1 -15  
> Aftershocks - _Here:_ parts 1 - 16  
> Not a Whimper - https://archiveofourown.org/works/17001399/chapters/39967239 - parts 1 - 10  
> The Ripple Effects - https://archiveofourown.org/works/18596824/chapters/44087722 - parts 1 -12  
> Minor Tremors - individual series of shorts that fit into this Bang!verse in a nonlinear way. As in they are random snapshots of life that could appear anywhere in the all of the series combined. - https://archiveofourown.org/works/18815989/chapters/44647327 - parts 1 - 11 
> 
> (And finally into a last of the series, un-named and currently at 7 parts, which I have not picked up on a very long while and may or not post it here.)

Alec sure could sleep.

Dean thought he had the act down to a science but the kid put his skills at achieving unconsciousness to shame. He occasionally checked the tangled pile of blankets and sleeping bags in the rear view for any signs of life. Whenever Dean pulled over on the shoulder to take a leak he’d ask the pile if it needed to relieve itself too. The pile rarely responded and when it did, Dean didn’t understand much outside Alec’s drowsy indifference to basic bodily needs.

When Alec also didn’t touch the bottled water or the food Dean began to remember all the things he’d read about X5s. It was easy to forget the kid mumbling in his sleep had been crafted to withstand a lot more than long rides in a car.

A government designed, demonic inclined, walking, talking killing machine.

Right.

Dean quickly found out that any volume of music didn’t seem to bother him either. Neither did high speed turns while wearing no seat belt. He found himself playing the most scratchy Quiet Riot tapes he owned on the worst roads just to get Alec to flip over from time to time to avoid bedsores.

Sam was doing a lot of the same in the passenger side with the added bonus of some snoring. However, he woke up periodically like a normal person to offer to drive but Dean just waved him off. Dean didn’t mind all the extra solo hours behind the wheel. Listening to the radio while everyone else around him dreamed was as close to being alone as he ever wanted to get anyway. He’d get his rest soon enough. But first he wanted to get them as far away into nowhere as they could go without putting skis on the car and taking a tour of the Arctic Circle.

The temperature got lower and the towns got smaller.

He took long and unmarked alternative routes to avoid the diesel nomads. The modern day highway pirates liked to roam up in the north country now that the law had all but vanished from the fringes of the providences. Dean stopped in a few of the abandoned towns to roll the dice at the gas pumps. Every now and then you got lucky for a gallon or two. More importantly there was usually water to fill up the jugs.

But all the sparsely populated outposts started to dwindle once Dean passed the middle of what used to be Alberta. After that the major cities ceased to appear on the sides of the highway where the pre-Pulse maps said they should be. The exit signs were still there of course. A few billboards for a Dennys and a Motel 6. But besides some asphalt and a few old water towers looming through the trees, there wasn’t much left but the wildlife.

After almost four days of non-stop driving, Dean started waking up to the exciting sensation of gliding off into the emergency lane. He figured that made it high time to make more than a pit stop. By that evening he’d located a likely spot for more than a jump on the battery and a liter of oil. Civilization got far and few between around here and when he finally got to log some blackout time he wanted it to be on a real life mattress.

He parked on the one unpaved muddy road that served as main street. The town had a few sentries walking around with rifles but they didn’t seem concerned with him or the car. From the looks of the hundred or so parked mobiles homes and trucks, the place seemed to get its share of traffic off the main road of regular travelers. Dean quickly determined that the tiny population of the settlement might have everything they required.

Food, fuel and a room they could lock for the night.

When Dean cut the engine he heard a groan from the backseat. Alec slowly dug himself up from under a pile of blankets and blinked wide sleepy eyes at the tall trees and all the snow covered scenery. The creak of the back door roused Sam enough to realize they’d stopped. Dean watched Alec stumble around for a few minutes in the snow like he’d just come back from the dead.

Alec looked around the one road shanty town and stretched his arms over his head. “Are we there yet?”

Dean was wondering when he’d hear that phrase come out of his mouth. “Does this look like Minnesota to you?”

“No idea,” Alec admitted. “I’ve never been there.”

Dean pointed up the ravine that the settlement had filled with trailers and an electrical tower that was pilfering off another on the other side of a small mountain range. “If you wanna head up that way you’ll see some Alaska.” He felt proud of the distance he’d brought them. If he really wanted to show off he could have looked up the name of the peaks rising on the horizon, majestically capped with white and all that crap.

“Looks like a real nice hike,” Alec zipped his coat up and bounced on his heels to generate some heat. “Not really into nature.”

Dean jerked a thumb at the gas station behind them. “Be a pal and go inquire within if this dump has a place somewhere that rents rooms.”

“Then what?”

“Then we sleep.”

“Oh,” Alec yawned and looked around with even less interest. “I’m not really that tired.”

“Then I’ll inquire within and you can do whatever it is you do.” Dean glanced down the street at the only bar around. “Don’t stay out all night. People out here get a little jumpy about strangers. Hide your barcode and don’t talk to anyone. Pay for your own drinks and don’t hustle any games. Keep your phone on and—“

“Whoa,” Alec breathed warm air into his cupped hands. “Are you freakin’ kidding me?”

Dean took a few moments to realize that no, he indeed wasn’t. “Sorry Junior, those are house rules. You listen and obey or you don’t get to wander around all night in a town I don’t know with people I’ve never met.”

“It’s just a bar,” Alec shrugged. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

Dean grinned at the kid’s sheer and beatific idiocy. “I’ll call you when I get settled in. Pick up or I’ll come lookin'.” Alec was half way down the block but Dean knew his ears could hear everything he said. “And if I have to come looking for you in my boxer shorts I will include an ass kicking.”

“Where’s he going?”

Sam had finally extracted himself from the car and was looking around like they’d landed on the moon.

“I dunno,” Dean shrugged. “Out.”

“Jesus Dean,” Sam tossed up his hands. “We stop for the first time in days and you let the kid take off the first chance he gets?”

Dean looked around the minuscule town with its whole entire one road. “Where’s he gonna go? And the kid isn’t that much of a kid if you haven’t noticed—“

“I just don’t think he should be walking around this town alone,” Sam shifted his duffel from shoulder to shoulder. “Anything could happen.”

Dean tried not to smile at the look on his brother’s face. Parenthood sure was a kick to the balls all right. “He has a phone,” he assured him. “And about a billion dollars worth of genetic enhancement in the off chance that he may need to defend himself. Honestly? I think it was a little cold of him to leave our sorry asses alone out here. If anyone is gonna get hurt it’s probably gonna be me—“

“Hey, check that out,” Sam said in half wonder. “There’s a welcome sign.”

The gas station was toasty warm inside. Dean saw a small kitchen in the back and his hope revived that there was always someone looking to accept some cash for some much needed services.

“Hello!” Sam called out. “Anyone here?”

“By the way he’s 21, dude.” Dean leaned over the counter to see if the attendant on duty might be taking a pot-break. “What do you wanna do? Give him a curfew and an allowance?”

“That sounds reasonable,” Sam nodded. “What like, midnight or something?”

“Christ.”

“I just think there should be some guidelines we should all adhere to make us all comfortable with the new living arrangement.”

“A Winchester with a curfew, huh?” Dean said. “That’s gotta be a first.”

Sam followed him to the back of the garage. “Dad gave out curfews all the time.”

“I never had one.”

“Well, that’s because you were perfect.”

“That’s true.” Dean conceded. “However, I also knew how to take care of myself.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Okay, easy, easy,” Dean backed out of striking range. “All I am sayin' is that when you got into fights, you never came out the other side lookin’ real hot.”

A woman suddenly appeared in a flowered housecoat and holding a wrench.

“Hi there,” Dean politely greeted her. “Do you happen to have any rooms available—“

“Only got one room and its twenty bucks cash,” she pointed at a tiny key attached to a rusted hubcap hanging on the wall. “Water is only on from 3AM to 3:30. No fights. No parties. No pets.”

“Sounds perfect,” Dean snagged the over sized key chain. “Can we get some extra towels?”

“No towels.”

“Right.”

“You need any repairs?” she motioned with the wrench. “I got some new mufflers in and a few fuel pumps.”

“No thanks.”

“He with you?” she asked.

Dean turned to see Alec standing around bored on the sidewalk just outside the door. Sam let out a sigh of relief that Dean could physically feel like a shot of whiskey. Rubbing at his head, he wondered how much of that connection was still hanging through the air between him and every mood Sam felt like having. “Uh, yeah. How many beds that room got?”

“One.”

“That’s all we need.”

Sam and Alec could share the floor if they needed any more beauty sleep. Dean followed as his brother hastily headed outside. He didn’t want to admit it but he was kind of happy to see Alec there too. Mostly because he wanted a full night of rest uninterrupted by angry mobs, angry women or law enforcement of any kind.

“So?” Dean asked. “What happened?”

“I lost it all already.”

“Lost what?” Sam was looking him over for any signs of violence. “What did you lose?”

“My money,” Alec said. “I figured I’d just hit the hay with you guys. You know, call it a night.”

Dean whistled.

Losing all your cash within ten minutes of hitting town was a record that he hadn’t even accomplished in his long and varied career. “Dice?” he asked.

“Chickens.”

Dean brightened. Chicken fights meant dead chicken and that meant a possibly decent dinner upon whenever he woke up. He tossed the car keys in the air and smiled when Alec caught them without even looking. “Go park her somewhere safe,” he told him. “And then bring all the blankets and stuff from the back.”

“Should I use winter camouflage or just basic?”

Dean stifled a surge of pride. He hadn't heard a question like that since the good old days when their dad used to hang around a ton of hardcore survivalists. “I think basic should be fine,” he decided. “Just don’t cram her anywhere that’ll scratch up the paint.”

“Yes, sir.”

Alec took off at a run.

This day was just getting better and better.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Sam POV. During 'With a Bang': After disabling Alec in his apartment, Sam has to take a moment to puke. Set directly in the middle of chapter one:_  
>  https://archiveofourown.org/works/15259845/chapters/35395707

The power kept coming back on and off.

Dean had flicked down all the light switches to stop the sickening stammer of the lamps from flashing every few minutes. The bathroom overheads were working for now and Sam wished they weren't. It'd be easier to close his eyes and think in the dark.

He spit into the toilet and counted the seconds until he knew he wasn’t going to throw up again.

A medical monitor shaped like a bracelet sat blinking a pale blue light on the tile floor. The thing was used to extract tiny blood samples and calculate intricate analysis. It had cost about as much as a year’s worth of gasoline but it was worth every cent for its one time use. The easy-to-read display read a perfect genetic match. Well, almost perfect.

99.99999999999999999999% accuracy rate.

Life sure was funny that way.

When Sam had found out about the existence of a son the first time he’d puked too. It figured the second time around wouldn’t be any different. However, that first magical up chucking was due from pure unadulterated fear. He’d been sixteen years old when Jessica had given him the bewildering news. There had been less than a hundred bucks in his pocket and a pissed off family he’d ditched for the west coast. But Sam wasn’t afraid this time. He wasn’t sure what the hell he was besides dizzy and tired.

He fumbled with the sink.

Pulling the knot of his tie down his chest, he let it get soaked as he splashed water on his face. The mirror was polished clean and his ragged reflection was perfectly clear under the harsh fluorescents.

“I take it that means you aren’t feelin’ better,” Dean leaned in the doorway flipping through a book. “We could have just used a tranq. We didn’t have to… you didn’t have to—“

“Yes, I did.” Sam used a white towel hung with its corners perfectly matching. “How is he?”

“Out like a light.”

“Good.”

“I haven’t found a thing,” Dean pulled at his own tie. “But it sure would be nice to know what I was looking for.”

“If he’s been studying any occult we’ll find it.”

The living room was lit up with several large candles sitting on the coffee table. After the glare of the bathroom bulbs the waver of the flames settled Sam’s headache. The transgenic was laying on the bed right where they'd left him. After one simple touch of skin on skin Sam had been able to disable the kid without much of a fight. But it had taken a lot to shut the X5's eyes. The effort to keep him down was still seeping between them like a two-way switch Sam couldn’t turn off. He wondered if he should tell his brother that it felt like slowly bleeding to death. With a strange sense of unease, he knew that nothing he said now would make Dean give up and walk away from this apartment.

Not this time.

“There’ll be something here,” Sam said. “Did you check under the furniture yet?”

“Not even bad porn,” Dean held up a book before tossing it aside with the others. “Unless you wanna count Oedipus Rex.”

There were more texts stacked neatly on the floor where the shelves ran out. Sartre. Kaufmann. Camus. Prachett. The names on the bindings came from the classics and everything else in between.

But the pages of books weren’t the only place a person could hide things. Kneeling carefully by the bed, Sam took a deep breath before proceeding. Bracing himself for the static charge of physical contact, he felt the body jerk slightly under his hands. He rolled up the kid’s sleeves first, fingers tracing the inner arms for needle marks or the red sore outlines from a patch.

“No drug use,” Sam murmured. “Nothing came up on the blood screen either except for that tryptophan deficiency.”

“Good for him,” Dean glanced over at the bottles of booze that cluttered the kitchen counter. “Clean livin’ all the way.”

The skin on the transgenic’s chest and back was the same. There was light scarring everywhere Sam looked but it was hard to tell which were from superficial wounds and what had been serious. The X5 regeneration rate was a little strange. Sam paused when he found the barcode. He heard Dean stop behind him to get a look at it too. They had both seen plenty of pictures of the thing. There was more documentation on this series of numbers than there was on the person the code had been assigned. Brushing his thumb over the fine set of lines, Sam wondered how old his son had been when it had been placed on the back of his neck. Sam knew this child had a good memory for things other than words. He had no doubt that the same memory retained all the years of medical procedures performed to exaggerate and exploit everything the X5 had been born with.

Sam sat back on the floor, another wave of nausea rolling through him.

He kept waiting to feel something besides sick.

“Still nothin’,” Dean moved on to the next bookcase. “No pretty designs under the rugs. Nothing behind the picture frames. There’s not even a bible for Christ’s sake.“

“We can’t be sure.”

“Yer right,” Dean agreed. “We’re gonna have to talk to him. If he’s on a demon’s payroll I think we’ll figure it out fast enough.”

“I don’t know,” Sam found a chair and dragged it beside the bed. “I’m not sure how much I can control him.”

His brother laughed softly.

“What?” Sam demanded.

“You have to let him wake up.”

“Have you been listening to anything I’ve said?”

“Yeah, I heard you but it’s time to face the music. It’s been ten years and I’m ready.”

Sam watched the steady rise and fall of the transgenic’s chest.

“And so are you, Sammy.”

He felt the urge to argue surge and fade. Ten years was a long time to think about what may happen. It was an eternity to think of what might not.

It was simpler than he thought it would be to ease off, the sway used to subdue the transgenic pooling back in Sam’s head like a stopped sink. As he gripped his son’s wrist, a flash of power drove back the ill feeling roiling in his stomach. The boy twitched as he was drawn closer to the surface of waking, a small sound of fear on his lips as consciousness returned. There was a stutter of light behind Sam’s eyes as he made contact with the sleeping mind that was so like his own.

His son was dreaming. Smoke. Fire. Jessica.

“He’s waking up,” Sam said.

The X5’s eyes blinked opened and struggled into focus. It was then that Sam could see it. It was all right there in the line of his jaw and the tint of his hair. The hands that were in a larger and masculine shape of the girl’s that Sam used to hold and touch. He stared into pupils a shade of green that he’d know anywhere.

“'Bout damn time,” Dean mumbled from across the room. “Thought he was gonna sleep all night.”

Sam supposed his brother was right. After a decade of hunting it was time to bring the search to an end.

It was time to meet Alec.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _After two worlds collide and all three finish exploding, Dean drives north into no man's land and starts to notice that Alec isn't much like (Sam) anyone else he knows._

Dean thought he had it all figured out.

They were going to cruise through Canada and kill a few weeks before crossing back over the border into the States. He was going to divvy the driving between him and Sam until they both fell over or ran off the road. This ceaseless all-nighter crap might have been cute when they were younger but now it was just outright brutal.

“So then I said, what’s with the gun man?” Alec explained over his pancakes. “I’m just trying to get laid ya know?”

Sam was silent as he elbowed around in the cramped booth. Three to a table was a little crowded and from now on Dean decided he was going to give Sam his own side. He motioned to the waitress for more coffee with the sincere hope that the next pot was better than the dishwater he’d just finished drinking. The eggs weren’t too bad though.

“But he was all pissed off about his money,” Alec sighed. “So I did what I had to do.”

“Speaking of money,” Dean waved his fork at him. “If you need some just ask before you start shakin’ people down—“

“I can do it.”

“I know you can but we got plenty of credit cards. After 09’ fraud got even easier.”

“Whatever.”

Dean took a moment to reflect on his deceased plan to ride uneventfully through the countryside. As it turned out a few weeks of peaceful driving became a lot more complicated than going from point A to B and back to C again. He never really had an appreciation for Sam’s method of getting through life, but Dean hadn't realized how hassle free it was to live side by side with a man that possessed a conscience.

Alec had not inherited that particular attribute.

All within the first seven days on the road, Dean had bailed the kid out of three different backwater clinks, two drunken mobs and one pretty girl with a switchblade.

“Can I drive tonight?” Alec asked. “You look tired. You should really let me take over for while. Besides, I’m awesome at it.”

“As good as you are at boating?”

“That tug boat was a wreck,” his confidence only wavered for second. “That was totally different.”

“I bet,” Dean said. “Thanks but no thanks.”

It would be nice to take it easy for a while at the house in Blue Earth. Of course they hadn’t been that way for almost a year and Dean didn’t want to think much about what condition the joint might be in. But he was going to open all the windows and maybe even try to clean the place. Dean kept thinking about the extra bedroom that used to belong to Pastor Jim on the second floor. After they had moved in it had turned into a workplace for all their research. Dean liked it because the huge window framed the farmland that went for miles and miles behind the overgrown garden.

The kid deserved a nice view for a change.

“Come on, lemme drive?”

“Quit askin’.”

“You can’t even give me one good reason.”

“Shut it,” Dean made a fist. “Or I’ll give you five.”

It was little strange to consider that Alec might not like the old house they’d lived in for almost two decades. After the city it was going to be tough to get a handle on the quiet life. Not to mention getting used to living with a real live ghost. Dean wasn’t sure how to break that part of the new living arrangement to his nephew yet. But that also reminded him to dig out that ouija board that was somewhere in the trunk. He was going to have to drop the Pastor a line to let him know they were headed back that way sooner rather than later.

“Please?” Alec’s annoyance rapidly shifted into a plea. “Sitting around all day freakin’ sucks.”

Dean couldn’t argue with that.

“Anyway,” Alec gave up and went back to his story. “After I locked that guy in his refrigerator I found this giant closet with gro-lights and tons of marijuana plants—“

“I’ll be right back,” Sam stood up with the empty coffee pot. “I’m-I’m just gonna go fill it up myself.”

“Could you grab some salt while yer up there?” Alec requested. “These pancakes taste like shit.”

Sam nodded absently before he took off.

Dean narrowed his eyes thoughtfully at Alec. He hadn’t had much time between all the demon slaughter and sewer hikes but now that he had some time he could pay some real attention. And as far as he could discern there was definitely something different about the kid. Besides all that ‘raised in a lab’ business there was something fundamentally off-center. Dean was forced to think of a timing light on an engine. With each beat of the pistons the device monitored the pace that let all the working parts run in harmony and function. It also stuttered off key when something wasn’t quite going with the flow.

“I got it,” Dean pointed at Alec with a smile. “Yer timer is off.”

“What?”

“By about 5 seconds,” Dean didn’t know if that increment was too slow or too fast but the thing was definitely askew. “Give or take.”

“That’s what Cindy says,” Alec was eating his pile of pancakes layer by layer. “She said I should watch more television.”

Dean begrudgingly agreed that it was as good a way as any to learn how to mimic semi-reasonable behavior.

“So then I found all this weed right?” the kid continued. “And I thought where can you unload a pound of mint at three in the morning and then I thought hey, that church on the corner said it was open 24-7—“

“Okay, okay,” Dean threw down his napkin. “Hold up a second.”

“B-But I’m getting to the good part.”

“What did I tell you yesterday?”

“Stop washing my hands so much?”

“After that.”

Alec’s distracted gaze flickered across the room to Sam.

“The less he knows, the happier we all are right?” Dean kept his voice down. “Deception and dishonesty are at the heart of every happy family.”

“You mean keeping secrets.”

“Exactly.”

The X5 stabbed at his last pancake and now just looked plain confused.

“Look Alec, all I’m sayin’ is tone it down a little...”

“Fine.”

“Instead of ‘the drug dealer’, say ‘this guy I met’...”

“Got it.”

“And when you want to say ‘rob’, try saying ‘ran into’...”

“Understood.”

Dean watched the kid finish his food and place the utensils at perfect right angles across the plate. It took him a moment to realize that it had suddenly gotten too quiet. He checked over his shoulder to see how much time they had left. “But Sam’s not here right now…”

Alec perked.

"So get back to the weed, junior.”

“Oh, this nun said she’d take it for about half what it was worth but I figured it was like giving to charity.”

Dean tried to hide his disappointment. For a guy who bought and sold his share of drugs the kid never seemed to keep any around.

“She even tossed in some holy water in the trade,” Alec said. “By the way, you should know that not everyone takes cash out here.”

“Thanks, I’ll try to remember that.”

“Remember what?” Sam asked.

Dean took the steaming pot gratefully out of his brother’s hands. “Alec was just telling me about the time he saved a small fluffy white dog.”

Sam looked pleasantly surprised.

The kid quickly assumed a different posture as he picked up the salt shaker and started to empty it onto his spoon. “Well, I was taking a walk with this uh… guy I met and we … ran into these gang bangers who’d fucked up his new Mercedes with a chainsaw—“

“You know what?” Dean forced a yawn and slid over the car keys. “I changed my mind.”

Alec was out the door before Dean could think about changing his mind one more time. Giving a look at his brother, he thought he’d maybe made the offer to the wrong guy.

“Cheer up, Sammy.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s great advice.”

Sipping hot coffee, he let Sam count out the dollar bills they owed for the place for food, fuel and loose ammo. Dean started yawning for real and began to think that letting someone else behind the wheel might not be such a bad idea after all.

At least there’d be no readjusting the seat.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Alec POV. Moving to Minnesota isn't as glorious as it sounds._

Alec had never been on an actual farm but he didn’t think they would look just like what he’d seen in pictures.

It was pretty in a lame postcard kind of way.

“You awake?” Sam asked even though he knew. “We’re almost there.”

His father’s voice sounded different and Alec realized it was because the guy was in an exceptionally good mood. Trying to smile along was a little hard. The last few hours of nonstop barns and endless woods were making Alec nervous. “How far are we from the highway?”

Dean glanced back at him and caught the look on his face. “What’s a matter? All the fresh air makin’ you dizzy?”

“A little.”

“Great, ain’t it?”

Alec watched a field go by filled with real life cows and decided to stay quiet.

After a few miles of gravel roads that ran between the patchwork cornfields they passed through what might have been a town. But as soon as they turned off the asphalt they were headed back into the corn. Before Alec could start asking where the hell they were going the tires were bumping on a dirt road. A house finally appeared on top of a small hill. It was one of those old deals with peeling white paint, wooden shutters on every window and a bright red door.

“This is just our spring and summer place,” Dean put the car in park. “Not bad huh?”

“Wait, you live here?” Alec was slightly confused by the statement. “Like you own it?”

“Yup, all 113 acres,” Dean said. “And the church.”

Alec tilted his head to make sure he wasn’t seeing things. The three-story house seemed like a stack of cards leaning a little too much to one side. At the bottom of its own dirt road was an even more rundown structure of sagging wood and stained glass. But the modest steeple had fresh white paint and its steps were swept clean of the scatter of leaves and pink petals from the cherry blossoms. Alec wondered who would come all the way out here to take care of it while they were away. He stepped out into the late afternoon sun and picked up the distant smell of charcoal grills burning and fresh cut grass.

Alec studied the house uneasily.

“What do you do with it?”

“We sleep in it,” Dean answered. “Sometimes we even eat.”

“With your friend?” Alec guessed as stepped up the porch steps. “He lives here too?”

“Lived.” Sam corrected him.

“O-Oh,” Alec squinted at the stained glass of the church glinting in the waning sunlight. “And what do you do with that?”

“That’s Sammy’s thing,” Dean popped the trunk. “Ask him.”

Alec turned uncertainly towards his father.

“Our friend was a Pastor here in town,” Sam hesitantly explained. “A lot of people depended on him for stuff and… and I’ve kinda taken over I guess.”

“Every Sunday,” Dean clapped Sam on the back. “He’s live and on stage.”

“Wait,” Alec looked back down at the church and then again at his father. “You-You’re a priest?”

“Well, technically I'm not ordained—”

“The folks in town don’t know that though,” Dean smiled. “And it’s pretty hard to tell the difference when he’s got the collar on.”

“I know it’s not completely ethical,” Sam sighed. “But I read from the same book the real guys do.”

“Yeah, it’s riveting stuff,” Dean said. “If you ever want to catch up on some sleep I recommend sitting in on one of his sermons.”

Alec realized he was staring at Sam and tried to stop.

“It’s just a cover, Alec,” Sam assured him with a small smile of his own. “Don’t worry, I’m not gonna start saying grace at the table.”

A few decades of watching the flock seemed like a lot more than a cover but what did he know. “What happened to the guy that lived here?”

“You like it?” Dean asked too loudly. “There’s lots of extra place so pick a room and get comfortable. Except for the basement.”

“Why not the basement?”

“Because it’s taken.”

Alec was distracted by the cheerful chirp of birds in the oak trees draped overhead.

“Hey, Dean look,” Sam had shouldered open the front door. “The rain didn’t do too much damage. All the wards stuck too.”

Alec followed them into a surprisingly sunny living room. He had expected rotted plaster and cobwebs but the place was oddly clean and pleasant. It was nice to see a television sitting in the corner even if it had a sheet thrown over it. The furniture was old and moldy but it looked like a pretty nice set up all round. But he couldn’t hold back a sigh when he spotted the back steps that led out to a sea of waving corn stalks. It was real nice place to settle in. Except for that whole ‘stranded in the ass crack of the universe’ part.

It was pretty cold in here too.

Alec realized he was hugging his arms to his chest. He didn’t experience discomfort from temperature differentials very often. The staircase behind him suddenly creaked loudly enough to make him jump. He turned expecting to see Sam or Dean moving up the dusty planks but there was no one there.

“So?” Dean asked. “What do ya think?”

“Uh...” Alec caught the duffel bag before it made heavy contact with his face. “I think it’s better than nothing?”

“That’s the spirit.”

 

 

~

 

 

It was way after dark before they ate.

Alec hadn’t expected it to be a big deal but they both waited for him to come to the table before they put anything on their plates. He could tell that the sit down dinner wasn’t a fluke or some rare homecoming tradition. Even though his father didn’t say grace Alec still had the feeling that he was late for something.

“You find everything okay?” Sam asked.

“Sure,” Alec helped himself to the food. “Thanks for the clothes.”

He hadn’t meant to disappear upstairs for quite so long but no one had come calling for him. There were several rooms up there that he could have dragged a bed into but he kept poking around until he found the attic. The tiny place under the roof was covered with bookshelves crammed to overflowing and a sliver of a window that carried the breeze. It was a little cave-like and cramped but it reminded him of home in a way.

Or not home.

Whatever.

“Nice house,” Alec was a little surprised to realize he meant it. “A little drafty though.” The forks and knives on ceramic faltered for only a microsecond but he caught it.

“It’s an old place,” Dean said. “What are you gonna do?”

Alec wondered whom he should ask about some sheets for the musty mattress he found up there. He was all about slumming it but even he had his limits. If the basement door hadn’t been sitting behind a couple of pounds of chain and a deadbolt he would have looked for the stuff himself.

“Does someone wanna let me in on the whole basement thing?” Alec ventured. “’Cause I can pick those locks no problem.”

Dean cleared his throat and sat back in his chair. When his uncle couldn’t seem to find the right words Alec thought he’d help him out by cutting to the chase.

“Are you keeping a dead guy down there?”

“Dead is a strong word...”

Alec felt his appetite waver.

“We’re not keeping anything down there,” Sam quickly interrupted. “Pastor Jim’s body is interred in the church crypt.”

“So... where’s the rest of him?”

“Right behind you.”

Alec felt a shock of cold run touch his spine like ice water. He swung around and saw nothing but the unlit living room and the shadows of the trees swaying with the wind. He sat back rigid in his seat when the brass chandelier overhead flickered in and out a couple times. The water in their drinking glasses began to ripple like someone was lightly thumping the table.

“If you wake up and see an old priest in your room don’t freak out,” Dean’s breath fogged as the temperature dropped. “He doesn’t talk much but he’s not so great about personal space.”

“What the f—“

Alec went still as another wave of frigid air moved across the back of his neck and brushed against his bar code. He slapped at it but it didn’t go away.

“W-Why is he here?”

“Where else would he be?” Dean shrugged. “It’s his house.”

If Alec wanted a more elaborate explanation he wasn’t going to get one. He gave up and let out a deep breath he didn’t realize he was holding. “Hi,” he waved in a general direction at the dark. “Hope you don’t mind me taking the attic. I’ll keep it clean. Just keep your cold ass out of the shower if you don’t mind.”

He got back to eating before he noticed his family wasn’t joining him.

“What?” Alec shoved another pile of string beans into his mouth. “After a couple demons and a hell gate a… a g-ghost is no problem.”

“I think he likes you,” Dean broke into a grin. “Ole’ Jim hasn't pulled out all the stops in years.”

He wasn’t sure but he thought he saw the faint glimmer of something bright moving right outside his peripherals. Sam startled him by suddenly laughing out loud like he’d just heard a joke even though no one was talking. No one that Alec could hear anyway. He noticed his fork shaking a little and immediately steadied his hand.

Rummaging for the least burnt biscuit, Alec concentrated on chewing without choking.

“Just keep out of the basement and don’t spill any salt,” Dean told him. “And he likes us to keep the church nice and tidy. In fact, you can help me chase the raccoons outta there tomorrow.”

“Sure thing.”

He just hoped they didn’t get any ideas about him mowing the damn lawn.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Alec POV. Alec vs. The small and kid-friendly town of Blue Earth._

The only reason Alec knew anyone had visited his new room was because the burnt out light bulb had been replaced.

He hadn’t noticed how dark it was up in that attic until he could light it up. Yanking the string on the switch a few times he decided to leave it off. With his eyesight it was a waste of perfectly good electricity. For some reason all the green around had made him start considering the possible usefulness of conservation. He was going to have look for some more blankets though. That freaking ghost never took a coffee break.

The television downstairs worked but it wasn’t hooked up to anything.

And even if Alec could move as silently as the resident phantom, he wasn’t as easily amused. There was no satellite dish on the roof. Not even an antenna. Alec assumed there were no snazzy optical cables in the walls but he unscrewed a few air vents to look anyway. After he picked up the corded phone and it only connected to an elderly and easily confused switchboard operator, he had to take a few moments before he knew he wasn’t going to cry.

He was alone too.

All the sleep his family had been missing out on must have caught up because they vanished to their respective rooms and crashed hard. They didn’t close their doors either which Alec found a little strange. He also kind of liked it that way. Alec could be pretty quiet but it was easier to check in every now and then without having to try to deal with creaky hinges.

The first few hours weren’t so bad because he discovered the load of bizarre crap that was stashed all over the house. Statues. Bottles. Not to mention weapons. Name it and it was rusting in a cardboard box. But once he’d had his fill of dusty police records and jammed pistols he started wandering outside.

There were no raccoons in the church but there were plenty of mice.

When noon rolled around he really did try to mow the lawn. Unfortunately, the garden was more like a start of a small forest and difficult to level with a pair of trimming shears. But he demolished about half of it anyway. When everyone was still in bed at sunset Alec tossed caution to the wind and snatched the car keys off the kitchen table. Rolling the Impala down the dirt road, he pushed it for a quarter mile before turning over the engine.

All those years in special ops were good for something after all.

It felt nice to drive even if he knew exactly where he was headed. The ‘town’ was a grocery store, a closed gas station and a flower shop that sold only funeral arrangements and bridal bouquets. Alec didn’t need any daises and the tank was half full. He pushed open the door of the food place and immediately noticed that it didn’t smell like cat piss or pot smoke...

“Is the Pastor back from Ecuador?”

Alec blinked at the matronly lady smiling anxiously at him from behind the counter. He had no idea how the woman had connected him to Sam until he happened to glance back at the Chevy parked on the street.

“Everyone saw his car come through from the highway yesterday,” she patted her pinned up hair. “We’re all real glad he’s back from the Mission!”

“Mission?”

“Missionary work is very important.”

“In Ecuador!” Alec pointed at her.

“A-Are you Pastor Samuel’s friend?”

“Yeah. That’s me I guess. Kind of.”

“Oh! A relation perhaps?”

“Yup,” It felt strangely right to say it out loud for the first time to a random grocery lady. “He’s my dad.”

Her eyes widened and she opened her mouth a few times before she could speak again. But instead of giving him some gracious smile of joy the lady’s mouth had turned down in a frown.

"You okay?" he asked.

“Well- well we all here in town were always under the impression that Pastor Samuel and his... brother... were very happy together?” she sounded truly dismayed by the chance that they might not be. “I had no idea the Pastor had a family elsewhere and well, my goodness!”

Alec had to take a second to figure out why she was so upset.

Oh.

“No, no, no,” he assured her. “He and his uh, brother, are great. They’re celebrating their anniversary in June. Big party. The whole town’s invited.”

Her troubled gaze eased into tentative relief. Alec hadn't really taken in account the genius of his family’s cover. A soft spoken priest and his ‘brother’ seemed to be no problem at all with the community at large. In fact, with Alec now on the roster it might scandalously disrupt the cozy sham they were currently laying on the kindly citizens of Blue Earth.

“They keep the church so clean!” she beamed. “And they water all the flowers!”

Alec sighed in annoyance. He never quite liked all the societal passes the happily married always got. “Hey lady, does this town have a pool table? Maybe a dartboard somewhere where I can get a few beers?”

“They serve wine at that fancy restaurant off Route 12?”

“Nevermind.”

Alec gathered up the box of stuff he’d put on the counter and got ready to pay out the ass for what he could have just stolen if he’d waited a few more hours.

“Oh, don’t be silly,” she pushed the groceries his way. “The Pastor just settles at the end of the month.”

Free stuff for the clergy. Sweet. Alec was warming to the whole impersonating a holy man thing.

“So,” she cleared her throat. “When was that party exactly?”

“Huh?”

“The Pastor’s party?” she asked expectantly. “Did you say June? I’ll have to start special orders real early if the whole town is going to be there!”

“Oh yeah,” Alec bit at his lip but for some reason he couldn’t stop talking. “The first Saturday. Tell all your friends.”

“Wait! I never got your name—“

Alec bumped into the pull not push door and almost broke it down. He wanted to start swearing when he got to the safety of the sidewalk but he stopped himself. Looking suspiciously up and down the deserted street, he calculated that it might have better 24-hour surveillance than a national bank.

Tossing the food into the passenger seat he wondered how far away Route 12 was. He definitely needed to kill a few more hours before going home.

Maybe even a few days.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Alec POV. Dean helps Alec kill some time._

Alec got the cable working.

It hadn’t been easy or pretty but he’d done it. He sure hoped no one was going to go looking for that laptop anytime soon. Or the cell phones. Not to mention all the tin foil. Flopping around on the couch, Alec began the arduous task of cycling back through the 548,102 available channels.

It figured there wasn’t a single thing on worth watching.

With a yawn he considered how to spend the remainder of the day. His choices were limited. It was time to eat another box of instant Jell-O or force himself down into a daze that passed for sleep until it was time to go to bed. Pausing on a spastic Chinese cooking show, Alec caught the studio backdrop with a glittering faux city skyline. With a groan, he rubbed hard at his eyes and quickly flipped the station. It was time to think about something else besides his latitude and longitude.

Like take-out.

There used to be a noodle stand near Jam Pony that sold soggy dim sum and cheap rice wine. Closing his eyes with a smile, Alec pictured the slant of its flickering neon sign. The chick that owned the place always wore a really short dress. Rain or shine, that pink silk ended high on the thigh and low on the—

“HEY.”

Alec almost fell off the sofa.

“Nice,” Dean finished off an apple as he checked out the tangle of circuit boards. “This thing pick up ESPN?”

There hadn’t been any warning creak on the floorboards and with his uncle’s boots that was quite an accomplishment. Despite the smile on Dean’s face, Alec wasn’t buying the happy mood. Sinking back uncertainly into the nest of quilts and pillows, he wondered if the act of living in the actual ‘living room’ might be frowned upon.

“Well, I hope you enjoyed your vacation,” Dean chucked the apple core into the fireplace. “’Cause it’s over.”

“Say what?”

“Time to get up.”

“I’m kind of in the middle of something,” Alec rolled over. “I’ll wash those Jell-O molds later.”

“You sure?”

“I am.”

“All righty.”

Alec suddenly detected the beautiful jangling music of car keys. “I'm up,” he struggled out of the heap of blankets. “Lemme just put on some pants... hey wait!”

Dean was already headed out the front door.

Staggering into his jeans, Alec grabbed his boots and skipped the laces when he heard the engine start without him. His ass had barely made contact with the passenger seat before Dean stomped the gas and the back tires sprayed gravel. After a bottoming out in a few potholes Alec recalled the tender paranoid care he’d given the machine the last time he’d been in it.

“Hey, Dean?”

“Hm?”

“If we’re going to the grocery store just tell me now so I can kill myself.”

“We’re going to Tennessee.”

“The state?”

"Catch."

A brown paper bag landed in Alec’s hands. “Argh,” he winced when the smell hit. “W-What’s is this?”

“A cat head.”

Alec fought back a dry heave.

“I found him out on the freeway,” Dean reconsidered the bag. “...or her.”

Alec fumbled with the stupid manually operated window.

“What are you doin’!” Dean jerked the wheel trying to stop him. “Those suckers don’t grow on trees!”

“Look, I know you’re all pissed off about that party thing but this is excessive—“

“It’s not about that you idiot, it’s for a job.”

“Job?” Alec raised his eyebrows at the wrapped road kill. “Like a hunting job?”

“Yeah, and if yer gonna get all choked up about a kitty cat we can turn around right now.”

“I’m not!” Alec hesitantly opened the sack to take a look. It was one dead piece of feline all right. “Y-You just surprised me that’s all.”

“There’s gonna be bigger surprises than that,” Dean sounded appropriately grim. “You have to be ready for it.”

Alec wasn’t sure how you primed yourself for a surprise, but all this talk about preparedness was bringing him back to the good old days.

“You have to be alert, Alec.”

“Always.”

“Have to stay sharp.”

“Like a tack.”

“We can go back if you want,” Dean offered. “You can help Sammy put bibles in the pews. I think I heard there was a bake sale coming up—“

“Why isn’t Sam coming?” Alec didn’t want to admit that he was already missing the calm his father brought to things. “Isn’t this a group activity?”

“He’s busy on weekends.”

Oh yeah, tomorrow was Sunday. Alec tried to settle back in his seat and watch out for any new road signs they passed. But he couldn’t concentrate on anything but the rancid stink wafting from the bag. This hunting stuff could be like combat duty in a way. Just with enemies Alec didn’t understand yet. Enemies he also couldn’t see or hear. Not to mention a requirement for severed animal heads. He watched the green fields zip past his window and knew they were headed towards the highway.

“Okay, let’s go hunting.”

His uncle glanced at him sideways. “You sure?”

“Yeah,” he mumbled. “I guess so.”

“You never know,” Dean shrugged. “You might even have a good time.”

“You’re right,” Alec shook the stained bag. “Can’t hardly wait.”

“I haven’t even showed you all the fun stuff in the trunk yet.”

“I hope it includes an extra pair of shorts.”

“Do me a favor and stick that guy in the cooler. We got a while to go and the a/c is busted.”

Alec felt a rise of genuine excitement when the glimmer of passing semi-trucks appeared on the horizon. The sight of traffic had never looked so awesome.

“I hope you don’t mind a small detour while were out here,” Dean readjusted his grip on the wheel. “I was thinkin’ about heading over to Hay Springs for a night.”

“Why?” Alec asked cautiously. “What’s there?”

“Live female entertainment,” Dean nodded. “I think they even have cable.”

This job didn’t sound so bad.

Not bad at all.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Sam POV. Waiting around for the kid to come home from his very first hunt is hard to do._

Sam’s father had always emphasized the importance of owning a landline telephone.

The communication satellites might scramble and the electricity could fizzle out, but the rotary jacked into the wall rarely let a man down. Glancing over at the small pile of what was left of his cell phone, Sam pressed down harder on the ballpoint pen and almost ripped through the paper. His dad had also been a big proponent of the written word. Sam had never gotten out of the habit of longhand, but the glow of a laptop usually lit up his desk along with the lamp.

He shook out his hand to avoid cramping up.

All his technology had recently been dismantled and reassembled in the guts of the television downstairs. The monitor now was tuned into a broadcast of soap operas, reality networks, and everything else in between that could fit in some ad space. There was even international porn. Sam had had a whole entire week to himself to discover all 34 languages it came in.

He looked over at the old phone that usually sat in the kitchen.

Dean checked in everyday at midnight as per usual but Sam found himself wishing the routine call would come earlier and more often. He also wanted a little more than his brother’s brief summarization of events. Sam strung the last few days worth of updates in his head and played them over and over until it felt like a weird poem:

Found the crematorium and dodged the fuzz.  
Bullet holes in the car but none in me.  
Saw a tornado off the freeway.  
Big chunk of hail cracked the back window.  
Be back on Friday.  
Don’t wait up.

Sam sighed.

Friday had come and gone and it was way past midnight.

Flipping a page in the ledger, he tried to refocus attention on the task at hand. He’d been asked to say a few words at a burial for an elderly woman who’d passed away in her sleep at a hospice in town. There was no family to speak of so that meant no wake. All Sam had to do was deliver a short service over the casket and hand some cash to the cemetery caretaker.

The harsh ring of the telephone startled him.

“Dean?”

_Thought I told you not to wait up._

"You didn’t call today.”

_This new cell is a piece of crap._

“Perhaps you’ve heard of a thing called a pay phone?”

_Yeah, they’re lined up on the side of the road next to all the unicorns._

“Where are you?”

Sam heard the rumble of the car outside just as Dean hung up.

He had already planned how he wouldn’t get up and meet them at the door. One look at his watch and he cursed under his breath. It would have looked a lot better if he’d been in bed, pretending to sleep and not sitting around like some—

“Sam!” Alec called out. “Hey! We’re back!”

Sam jumped when his mind was suddenly slammed with a jumble of thoughts that weren't his. It was the first time he was aware of Alec using their connection for a simple and convenient use. The inquisitive touch had come out of nowhere and felt as good as running full speed into a brick wall in the dark. With much more care, Sam reached out and gently pushed Alec back with an image of his location.

Alec changed his direction and was headed up the stairs.

A wave of good mood flashed in Sam’s head like the aftershock of a flash bulb. Sam lay down his pen as he felt Alec presence come in loud and clear. There was excitement and some relief. There was elation and anxiety. Even though the hunt was completed over a day ago the boy’s heart was pounding like it had just happened. Sam closed the ledger and turned around just as his son reached the doorway.

“I tried to call you all night but it’s hard to get a signal out.”

Sam wasn’t sure if Alec meant the phone or everything that was flickering inside his head.

“It’s okay,” Sam assured him. “I’ve been pretty busy.”

“The trip went great,” Alec stepped into the dim lamplight. “We totally kicked ass.”

Sam swallowed hard when he saw the bruises. He was up and out of his chair before he could think about it. Alec’s happy expression faltered for a moment and Sam suddenly wished he’d changed his clothes. He totally forgot he was still dressed for the evening mass.

“Y-You should have been there,” Alec said. “We were going to just hang a cat head on a tree and call it a day but the thing came out! Right out of the ground! Dean told me to let it go but I chased that mother into the woods and—“

“What happened to your face?” Sam turned Alec’s face from side to side. “Are you all right?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, just listen? ” Alec shrugged out of his grip. “I chased the thing into the woods and it tried to lose me but no way. I caught up after a half mile and then I—”

“And then Alec nailed the son of a bitch right between the eyes.”

“Thanks a lot,” Alec frowned at his uncle. “I was tellin’ it.”

“Sounds exciting,” Sam didn’t like the size of Dean's smile. “I was told that this hunt was only going to require a cleansing ritual.”

“What can I say?” Dean said. “The kid is an awesome shot.”

“I dragged it back and then we burned it,” Alec said. “It smelled like popcorn.”

“He did most of the work,” Dean slumped into a overstuffed chair in the corner. “Next time I think I’ll just wait in the car.”

Sam took Alec’s chin again and examined the row of stitches curving down his cheek. “Are there more of these?”

“I didn’t get them hunting,” Alec quickly explained. “I kinda got them somewhere else.”

Sam blinked down at him in confusion.

“I kinda went through a second story window.”

“He kinda got tossed through a second story window.” Dean amended.

“In the woods?”

“No, no,” Alec said. “In the bar.”

“Oh yeah, the kid can put away whiskey about as fast as he can run,” Dean said. “You might wanna check him for tattoos too.”

“We were celebrating,” Alec’s grin twisted the stitches almost sideways. “On a job well done.”

Sam pulled up both sleeves and found a few more lacerations that had Dean’s neat suture work on them.

“You should have been there,” Alec repeated as he tugged his arms away. “It came right out of the ground. Like a … like a…”

“Like a ghost?” Dean helpfully provided.

“Yeah,” Alec’s grin faded as he abruptly switched gears. “I’m pretty tired.”

The flutter of his son’s agitated thoughts quieted and began to recede out of his own. But Sam nudged the flow between them back to life, searching for anything else that was being kept hidden away. Any sign of pain or fear. Anything at all that would require him to inform his son that there would never be another trip out into the woods ever again.

Alec stumbled backwards into the doorframe when Sam pushed it a little too hard. “Quit it,” he rubbed at his forehead. “I said I’m fine.”

Sam felt a dull pain as Alec shut the link down himself, severing it with an involuntary burst of force. He heard Dean groan behind him and knew his brother had got hit with it too. Alec looked flustered before he turned around and headed for the hallway.

“G-Goodnight, Sam.”

He was gone up the attic steps.

“What the hell was that?” Dean asked.

“So what about you?” Sam changed the subject. “You go through any windows?”

His brother studied him for a moment. “Nope. I’m perfect.”

“You’re limping.”

“You should see the other guy,” Dean glanced at the ledger sitting closed on the desk. “Anything new around here?”

“A woman died.”

Digging around in his jacket pockets, Dean got up with a yawn. He pulled out a new cell phone and dropped it in Sam’s hands. “When’s the party?”

“In the morning at Saint Marks. And you’re looking at the party. She had no next of kin.”

“Good.”

“Excuse me?”

“Then I don’t have to bother with a tie.”

“You don’t have to come.”

“Someone has to listen to your ode,” Dean shrugged. “And I gotta be up early anyway.”

“It starts at 6AM.”

“Jesus fucking Christ.”

“Amen.”

“Slap me awake after you make the coffee.”

Sam sagged back into his seat and listened to his brother move with uneven steps down the stairs. The attic floorboards stopped creaking above his head and he knew Alec had gone to bed too. He powered up the wireless phone, intrigued and slightly annoyed by the new display and different color. Dean had already reentered their contacts into the memory and placed himself on the top of the menu next to a strange toll free number.

Despite his better instincts, Sam automatically spelled out what it said from the letters on the keypad.

1-800-EAT-SHIT

He was glad he was all by himself again.

It seemed like an inappropriate day to laugh out loud.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Dean POV. When one telepathic Winchester has a problem, they all have a problem. Alec succumbs to a chemical deficiency that all X5s like to hide. Spoilers for DA S1._

Dean cut the hunting trips down to a couple forays a month.

Between that and the church stuff he wished there was some free time to sit around and have a beer every now and then. Not to mention all the hours he spent at the gas station. He showed Alec around the little garage where he reigned supreme as the best (and only) mechanic in a hundred square miles, but the kid hadn’t been too impressed with the oil stained concrete. After Alec revived the dead diagnostic computer and emptied the vending machine Dean never saw him around there again.

That was fine by him.

Dean privately enjoyed having the radio and toolboxes all to himself anyway.

Shedding his greasy attire, he tossed a shirt, pants and everything else on the fence and turned on the garden hose. It was easier to get clean out here than going inside and messing up the bathroom. He’d been banging around the insides of a Winnebago all afternoon and a bottle of magma soap usually got most of the black off.

Grabbing a clean pair of jeans off the clothesline, Dean pulled them on and carefully tugged up the zipper.

It was strange not to hear the television blaring when he came up barefoot on the back steps. Usually there was a jumble of CNN along with the fancy stereo system they now inexplicably owned.

“Hello!” Dean called out in the silence. “Anyone here?” He caught a flash of a shadow along with an unnaturally frigid breeze. “Besides you, Jim.”

He was starving and had hoped there’d be food conveniently already cooked, but the stove was cold.

Pulling a drinking glass out of the sink, Dean noted that the dishes he washed that morning were wet. They had not only been rewashed but also rearranged into a more tidy system of size and color. Dean frowned. As if the remaking of his bed wasn’t fun enough to find everyday, now Alec was on the dishes too. They were going to have a sit down about how many times a plate had to see water before it was deemed clean—

He didn’t remember dropping the glass.

Staring down at the broken pieces on the floor around his feet, the cold breeze picked up around him with the resident ghost’s agitation. But the Pastor hadn’t knocked the thing out of his hand. Something else had made him drop it and whatever it was had hammered behind his eyes like a physical pain.

“What the hell...”

The icy presence of the Pastor swirled and suddenly whipped up the staircase, rattling picture frames and windowpanes until it hit the third floor of the attic with a boom that shook the rafters. Jim wasn’t a real chatty apparition but he could always get his point across.

“Alec!” Dean yelled. “You up there?”

Dean ignored the bite of the glass underfoot as he quickly headed to the stairs. When he got to the landing he received another wave of what had struck him the first time. Doubling over, he fought the urge to sink to his knees. It was a strange sensation that wasn’t all pain exactly. It was mixed up with a sickening euphoria. Dizzy, Dean stumbled up the next flight of stairs and saw Alec’s bedroom door was closed.

“Alec?”

Dean hadn’t expected the kid to be sitting in a chair looking out the little window.

“Hey,” Dean tried again. “You hear me callin’ you?”

“Yeah.”

“I felt somethin’, a-and the Pastor is all riled up—“

“I didn’t know you were going to be home.”

“They shut down the power every other Wednesday,” Dean put a palm over Alec’s pale forehead. The kid was pretty toasty even if it was always uncomfortably hot up here. “I closed up early.”

Alec’s eyes weren’t focused on anything. Dean waved his hand in front of his face and snapped a few times.

“Okay, what is this Alec? Did you take something? What was it?”

“I don’t do drugs.”

“You don’t drink much either.”

“I-I just need some sleep.”

“Sleep?” Dean repeated.

“Yup.”

“You sleep all the time. What are you talking about—“

“Not really,” Alec’s hands were trembling. “I close my eyes but nothing happens.”

Dean took a moment to interpret what that might mean.

“Dean?”

“What?”

“Don’t let this alarm you,” Alec slumped forward limply, sliding out of his seat and onto the floor. “I do it… I do it… all the time.”

Alec’s body suddenly stiffened in Dean’s hands and then began to shake. Dean was knocked backwards into the wall when the kid suddenly flung an arm back into his face. His vision cleared just in time to see Alec’s eyes roll back in his head. Finally realizing what was going on, Dean kicked the chair away and pushed his hands between Alec and the floorboards.

Another wave of white sizzled through Dean’s head as Alec’s back arced off the floor.

“Shit,” Dean hissed.

Surge after surge of the noise in Alec’s brain was broadcasting unchecked and uncontrolled right through air like a radio signal. Dean groaned as he realized he wasn't going to be upright for very much longer. Fumbling for his back pocket, he mumbled a sincere prayer of thanks that he’d randomly stuck his phone there. It was a good thing he didn’t have to be able to see to hit the right button.

“Sam?” The agony behind his eyes burned bright and hot. “Y-You’re needed at home.”

Alec wasn’t breathing right. Dean tried one more time to shake off the pain but it wouldn’t go away. He reached out and grabbed onto Alec instead, the kid’s muscles constricting violently under his grip. The last thing he was aware of was the sound of his own gasping.

And then he was gone.

 

 

 

 

Dean tapped the bottle of tryptophan on the table with a steady rhythmic thump.

Alec sat warily across from him but didn’t have much to say for a change. Dean realized the rattle of pills was just making his own headache worse so he stopped.

“I told you,” Alec said reasonably. “This happens to me all the time.“

“Drink the milk.”

“It’s expired.”

“Drink it.”

The month old milk was pretty nasty but it also contained lots of natural tryptophan goodness and about half the bottle of the pills pounded into a fine powder. Alec took a courtesy sip before shoving the glass half way across the table. If Dean’s forehead felt like it was now sporting a railroad spike he couldn’t begin to imagine how crappy the kid was pretending not to feel.

“We have a problem, Alec.”

“No we don’t.”

“Why aren’t you takin’ these things?” Dean held up the bottle. “When we got here we had a talk about keeping up on the supplements. You either sleep or you take the pills. You don’t get to not do both.”

“I was trying to sleep!” Alec protested. “Every night! When you guys do!”

“Sleep means sleep, not watchin’ Skinamax till the crack of dawn.”

“You don’t know anything about it,” Alec attempted some anger. “I’m totally fine.”

“You do this when we’re not around?” Dean asked. “You wait to be alone?”

“I get lucky sometimes. Can’t exactly plan it.”

“This is so uncool, Alec.”

“You can forget about those pills. I’m not taking them.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t like it.”

Dean looked down at the supplements on the table before reconsidering his nephew. “I don’t like a lot of shit either but that’s the beauty of this thing called life.”

“You don’t understand,” Alec sagged further down into his seat. “I mean I don’t like it.”

Rubbing at his eyes, Dean waited for some elaboration.

“Those pills make me dream,” his voice sounded oddly confessional. “It’s lame.”

“Bad dreams?”

“All kinds,” Alec looked lost again. “I had an epic adventure starring a talking cat head last week. Before that I had one about that pretty dude that runs the flower store and then before that I was back in that fire in the Needle and then I had this funky one about driving on Mars with Abraham Lincoln riding shotgun—“

“That’s how it works,” Dean said. “Good with the bad, it all comes together in one box.”

They both turned at the sound of tires skidding at high speed on the dirt driveway.

Dean wasn’t sure what kind of incoherent message he’d left on Sam’s voice mail, but after he'd woken up on the attic floor he’d found his own phone ringing with a few dozen missed calls. Apparently explaining that everything was more or less under control hadn’t improved his brother's mood much.

He got up from the table.

“Dean, wait,” Alec flinched when the front door slammed open. “This is a family discussion that should involve everyone—“

“I think my work here is done.”

“I’m drinking it!” Alec gulped some milk and gagged. “S-See?”

The kid looked almost pathetic enough to make Dean sit back down and get ready to perform some damage control. However, Sam was already standing in the doorway doing some worrisome controlled breathing exercises.

Dean pushed his chair in and ducked down the back hallway.

He was sending himself to his room.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Alec POV. Sam takes Alec's bedroom door off the hinges and Alec reacts accordingly._

Alec slammed the fridge closed when he saw the entire top shelf stacked with cartons of milk, yogurt and cheese. He opened the door again and grabbed a package with a cartoon picture of a happy goat on it.

Gross.

“Tryptophan exists in other foods you know,” he grumbled. “Like turkey. And bananas. And large quantities of sesame seeds.”

“Sesame seeds?” Dean asked. “Who the hell eats those?“

Alec pretended the question was too stupid to be answered.

“Don’t go lookin’ at me like that,” Dean said.

“Like what?” Alec readjusted his glare.

“Like yer trying to make my head explode.”

“But this isn’t fair.”

“I’m glad you understand,” Dean said. “Another life lesson we can cross off the list.”

Alec almost attempted to redirect his frustration at Sam but that was a dead end street with absolutely no satisfaction on it. He'd been hoping for some reaction from the guy that wasn’t another carefully worded lecture. Thinking of his bedroom door that Sam had carefully unscrewed and removed from the hinges, Alec decided to be a little mean instead of just loud.

“This is like those suicide watches they’d pull on anyone who freaked out in the lab,” he saw his father’s shoulders tense. Alec fell on to the sofa and kept talking. “You got put under observation until they determined you weren’t going to slit your wrists with anything available—“

“That’s enough.”

Alec met his uncle's look across the room and made another decision.

To keep his mouth shut.

“This isn’t a punishment, Alec,” Sam interrupted. “I just thought you’d be more comfortable on the first floor with us.”

Alec looked around at what few possessions he had stowed up in the attic that were now arranged in the living room. That included some books, a pile of clothes and his reassembled bed.

“You spend most of your time down here anyway,” Sam said. “So what’s the big deal?”

Having his father and uncle as bookends on the crowded couch didn’t sound like it was going to be good times. But at least he had control of the remote.

“Is there a game on?” Dean asked.

Alec ignored the request and flipped through the stations. Sam had opened a book and was officially no longer present. Staring hard at the screen, Alec resisted throwing a fist when another page was loudly flipped over.

“How long are we gonna do this?” Alec asked.

“Forever,” Dean said. “Or until someone has to use the can.”

His uncle helped himself to some chocolate milk.

Sam took a couple swigs of the stuff too.

After about a half an hour Alec noticed that his father and uncle were beginning to sag in their seats and further encroach on his middle cushion of the sofa. The dudes went to bed pretty early but 5PM was a little premature even for them.

Alec continued with the never ending channel surf.

Admittedly, all his family’s yawning was coming along faster than he’d anticipated. But to be fair he’d spiked every beverage in the house with enough tryptophan to switch off a meth-addict. He wasn’t very proud of himself but what was done was done. From the quality of the surround sound snoring it seemed like Alec had provided a much needed service. After all, old people did require more rest than others.

He leaned in close to determine how potent those pills were on the average human being. Dean groggily blinked awake after a poke to the face.

Alec offered him some more milk.

The QVC network was a pleasant lull of discount prices, fake diamonds and hand modeling. Placing the remote quietly on the table, Alec stood up and stretched. It looked like Sam and Dean were out for the count.

And Alec had somewhere else to be.

 

 

 

The sun had gone down but the lady at the grocery store seemed to run on a different set of the same 24 hours. She also seemed to be the only living person to be found down town. Granted, Alec had only been into the shop twice and this was his second time.

“Hello, Alex!”

“Hi,” he didn’t bother to correct her. “Real nice to see you again.”

“Good thing you caught me!” she quickly shut a gossip rag that was laid out on the counter. “I was just about to lock up.”

“Oh, yeah, sorry. You know… errands and stuff.”

“Everyone sure was happy to see you at your father’s service!”

Alec wasn’t sure how he was supposed to respond to that so he just nodded solemnly. He’d sat through a Sunday mass for a lack of anything better do to but it hadn’t been a total waste of time. Besides all the free wine, he’d more importantly discovered that the grocery lady had a giggly daughter that was ten kinds of hot.

“So,” Alec picked through a crate of fresh vegetables. “Are you working all alone tonight or uh… hey, what are you doing?”

“I’ll be just a sec!” She looked a little guilty but she kept dialing the phone anyway. “Last week Pastor Samuel asked me to let him know whenever you happened to stop by.”

“Oh.”

“It’s ringing!”

“Take your time.”

Alec wondered how long she was going to wait, because there was no one on the other end of the line in any condition to chat.

“Hello?” her face lit up. “Pastor?”

Alec’s smile faded.

“Why yes! He’s right here!”

Taking the offered phone, Alec slipped his finger over the hang up button. While he was pretending to listen carefully to the dial tone he happened to catch sight of a glass freezer behind the counter. “Kay, bye! God bless you too.” He handed back the phone with a big fat smile of thanks.

“I-Is everything all right? The Pastor seemed a little—”

“Uh, yeah, he just wanted to make sure I bring home some dinner,” he pointed at the freezer. “Is that a real turkey in there?”

“It’s left over from the last church social.”

“Can I get that to go?”

“Surely.”

Alec remembered that the door was the type that you had to pull and not push this time. Hefting the frozen turkey under his arm, he figured out the yield of .24 grams of snooze per serving.

“Hi, Alex!”

He stopped in his tracks. A chick with three feet of leg and no visible tan lines was lounging against the Chevy like it was magnetized. The grocery lady’s daughter might have owned the same enthusiastic vernacular but that was where all resemblance ended. Alec wondered if the turkey would be okay in the trunk.

These birds always took a few hours to properly thaw out anyway.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Dean POV. It's always a proud moment when the student surpasses the teacher._

Dean wasn’t sure if he was still being dosed with sedatives, but he couldn’t remember the last time he had gotten this much awesome sleep.

Even though he was now restricted to eating and drinking sealed items he was having a pretty a good week all round. After relocating all of Alec’s crap back up on the third floor an uneasy truce had been declared amongst all parties involved. The kid still didn’t have a door to close but he seemed appeased by getting his attic and underwear back under his own jurisdiction.

“Hey Dean! You around?”

He wasn’t sure why Alec always walked into the auto-shop with the same question. The place wasn’t that big and there weren’t many places to hide.

“Dean!”

“Yeah, I’m back here.”

With both retractable garage doors open, the cold side of April was blowing in nicely with the rain. The weather had turned every road off the town’s main drive into a swamp of potholes and sent three vehicles Dean’s way with busted suspensions. On top of that he had a lukewarm beer, the scratch of Jimmy Page’s guitar on the radio and dinner waiting in the microwave. It was almost a perfect day.

Alec made a face. “It smells like polyalkylene glycol in here.”

“Spilled some hydraulics.”

“Where?”

“On the floor.”

Instead of heading for the small fridge that stored the brew, Alec did what he always did first upon arrival. He went to the back bathroom and spent a suspicious amount of time washing his hands. But Dean knew what the kid was really doing in there for five minutes. And truth be told, he liked the spit and polish Alec could give the old porcelain with nothing but a toilet brush.

“What are you doing?” Alec reappeared in record time. “Are you almost done?”

“This one came in with bad springs.”

“This model's shock absorbers are only accessible from the bottom.”

“Thanks for the tip,” Wiping a rag over the transmission, Dean uncovered more of the carburetor. “Where you been all day?”

“On a date.”

“You date?”

“I do now.”

Alec finally headed for the fridge. He opened and closed it a few times before digging out a beer and cracking it open with his teeth.

“No dice, huh?” Dean hazarded a guess.

“I thought church girls were supposed to be sluts.”

Dean felt his pain. Small towns sure knew how to grow them virtuous.

“I’ve taken this grocery chick out five times and all I’ve gotten is a tour of the storeroom.”

“Hey, they get any more cornflakes in yet?”

“I don’t get it,” Alec pulled up a chair and gulped his beer. “I thought this whole ‘Pastor’s Son’ spiel was really going to work out for me.”

Dean had to admit it was a pretty good hook. For some reason the ladies got worked up around all the low lights and talk about resurrection. His own association with the cloth had done him a lot of good too. Dean’s hook was slightly different but it made the local female population just as curious.

“Grab me a 12mm socket wrench would ya?”

The kid rattled through the toolboxes and gave him one.

“I said the 12.”

“But that won’t rip the manifolds out.”

“I’m not ripping anything out,” Dean said. “I’m fixing it.”

The correct wrench was found and reluctantly handed over.

“So?” Dean asked. “When’s the next... date?”

“Friday. She wants to watch a movie.”

Despite the threat to the free beef jerky he'd been enjoying at the grocery store, Dean was impressed. Everything around with the XY chromosome had been trying to climb on top of that particular girl ever since she came back taller from a summer in college. Not that Dean had really given it his best shot but hanging out with anyone with a birthday after the year 2000 felt a lot like babysitting.

“And all the walks,” Alec said. “She really likes taking long walks.”

“Walks are nice.”

“Walks are for people who don’t have cars.”

Dean couldn’t argue with that one.

“There’s no one else viable in this whole entire town,” Alec sighed. “I’ve been hitting mass every weekend and I’m tellin’ you, this place is dry.”

“Did you notice the woman who always gets there early and sits in the first row?” Dean cleaned off the wrench and put it back in its spot. “Real big hair, lots of blue eye makeup and the white lace gloves?”

“What about her?”

“She’s been trying to tap Sam’s tabernacle for about ten years.”

“Ew.”

“Look, yer missing the point here.”

“Good.”

“What I’m tryin’ to tell you is that she’s got three cousins and they aren’t the bible type either.”

Alec brightened.

“And that’s not even the best part,” Dean said. “They’re all named after southern towns.”

Alec’s interest dulled. “So what?”

“Savannah, Memphis and good ole’ Tallahassee.”

“They sound like a bunch of strippers.”

“Yup,” Dean got back under the hood. “They sure do.”

It didn’t take very long before he heard the beer bottle hastily tossed in the trash and the door swing shut. Although Dean hadn’t added a warning about the three sister’s enormous and easily enraged boyfriends, he figured it was all for the best.

Alec was the kind of guy that appreciated a challenge.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Dean POV. Alec and Dean crash the same church potluck and are forced to come out of their respective closets._

Despite all the odds, it happened.

Dean didn’t know what deity he might have pissed off but there was only one explanation for the current circumstances. Although he supposed he should have counted himself lucky that it’d taken Alec this long to discover the beauty of potluck Saturdays. A churchyard filled with picnic tables covered in BBQ and pie were hard to keep a secret.

And all you had to do was survive the church part first.

“Don’t sit next to me,” Alec hissed. “It looks weird.”

“It'd be weirder if I didn’t.”

“I was here first.”

“I got you beat by a few years, pal.”

"Fine," Alec slouched down in the pew and opened a hymnbook. “But people are looking.”

“So smile. You’re the new local attraction.”

The kid tried turning sideways.

“Besides,” Dean sighed. “They’re lookin’ at me too.”

“Yeah,” Alec snorted. “You’re the chump living with someone else's baby.”

“Hey, I’m a picture of support and freakin’ acceptance.”

“Actually I have it on good authority that most people around here think you’re kinda whipped—“

“It’s starting.”

The sermon was as great as a rambling anecdote concerning the state of morality could possibly be. Dean let his mind wander until the congregation eventually began to stir back to life and collect their things. But nothing was as sweet as the sound of Sammy’s industrial sized bible slamming closed. Well, nothing besides the sound of tin foil and Tupperware.

He woke up Alec.

“This is gonna be brutal,” Dean told him. “You sure you wanna go through with this?”

“We eat and then we run,” Alec yawned. “How bad could it be?”

Dean was surprised they even had time to stand up before the first barrage hit. He’d had his money on the widow with all the cats, but the soccer mom with all the kids got there first.

“Good morning!” she said. “So! This must be the Alex everyone is talking about?”

“It’s with a C,” Dean corrected her. “Not an X.”

“Well, Alec, it sure is nice to have you with us here in our little town,” she stood closer and dropped the pretense. “And you are how old exactly? About 20, 19, 18?”

“I’m 21,” Alec ducked around her and headed towards the door. “I’ve never seen lasagna in daylight before. Awesome.”

Dean followed behind them and attempted to ignore everyone else in the parish trying to do the same thing.

“Oh, 21, that’s wonderful!” she quickly handed Alec a paper plate. “And your father is what... 40, 39, 38?”

“Sam’s 37.” Alec provided.

“Oh, my.”

“I know, right?” Alec sniffed at spoonful of ambrosia salad. “I was a huge mistake.”

Dean returned her look with what he hoped was a smile of peace, love and lots of understanding.

“I see,” she cleared her throat. “S-So where-how-what does your mother—“

“But what a great mistake, huh?” Dean slapped Alec on the back. “Can’t imagine life without him!”

Dean resisted the urge to step backwards when she suddenly gripped his hands with both of hers. Too overcome to speak just yet, she just kept nodding. “We are all looking forward to June,” she managed. “I’ll be bringing a cold appetizer and all the napkins.”

“That’s super, thank you.”

“Hey Dean, take a look at this! Someone took hardboiled eggs apart and then put them back together again— hey!”

Alec’s indignant yelp of surprise made all of the pleasant conversation buzzing around the churchyard pause. Dean turned around to see him trying to wipe a messy helping of baked ziti off the front of his shirt.

“Did you see that?” Alec asked in a low voice. “I-I think that was on purpose.”

Dean caught several glares from the aproned young women with serving spoons standing behind the tables. If he wasn't mistaken, Alec had gone through every single one of them over the span of the last month. Dean checked out the biceps on the blond that had chucked the hot pasta.

“Didn’t you take that one to a tractor pull last week?”

“Not sure,” Alec licked his hand. “All these white chicks start looking the same after a while.”

Dean backed up when a large serving of Jell-O was heaved in the general direction of Alec’s plate. Grabbing a plastic fork, Dean decided to start with the fried foods before cruising the casseroles. The end of the line was always a big bowl of fruit punch and a cold keg of Bud. Say what you would about the God fearing folk of Blue Earth, but they sure knew how to rock it before noon.

“Drinks here!” another girl greeted them. “You both look real thirsty!”

Gratefully taking a frosty glass, Dean winced when she released Alec's cup a half-second too early. The kid warily put some distance between himself and the food line, his plate fizzing with a puddle of beer.

“I think those girls are mad at me.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

"I figured it wouldn't be fair to only call some of them back, right?" Alec explained. "This way everyone is totally even."

The crowd's chatter rose and fell when Sam finally emerged from the church.

"Like anyone calls anyone back anyway," Alec snagged a few unattended chicken legs. “Who has that kinda time on their hands?”

Dean spotted a seat in the shade. But before he could get there he was stopped with a hard squeeze on the shoulder. Expecting an angry mother, he was pleasantly surprised to be looking down at the old man who ran the local sod farm instead. "Hey George, how are you doin'--"

"My first son ain't mine either," he whispered in Dean's ear. “My Margie cheated on me when I was overseas fightin’ in Vietnam.”

“W-What?”

“I know it’s hard,” he looked meaningfully over at Sam. “But you gotta work these things out.”

The man hobbled off when Alec arrived with the entire cheese platter.

“Put that back.”

“No way,” Alec said. “It’s mine.”

Dean spotted the contents of an emptied ashtray decorating the cubed cheddar at the same time the kid did.

“You wanna know something?” Alec tossed the tray sideways into a trash bin. “For a microscopic community with a strong religious base, these people are pretty closed minded.”

Dean pushed his food around and frowned at the festive design on the disposal plate. Instead of the usual ambiguous beige, everything on the table was sporting a troubling collage of brightly inked rainbows.

“Yeah,” he snapped his fork. “Real tough crowd.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Dean POV. Dean-n-Alec have another tear jerking moment but this time it's Alec who knows what the fuck he's talking about._

Being on a doctor’s table never failed to piss Dean off.

He wasn’t sure if it was being forced to enjoy the nautical themed watercolors and or all the outdated child care magazines. Maybe it was the partial nudity and people causally sticking needles into his arms while they talked about the weather. Whatever it was, the entire process left him feeling like a violated little kid.

Putting his shirt and jacket back on, he tried to decipher what the doctor was saying. It was hard to tell half the time. All communication had to get through the filter of excessive age, rampant alcoholism and a German accent that was only a few symbols away from the actual language. Leaving Dean alone to gather his things, the doctor wished him a very nice day before taking off to the next patient.

Dean snagged a few pairs of latex gloves on his way out.

“He said you need to make another appointment next week,” the equally old broad at the front desk was filing her pink manicure. “We can make it the same time and day.”

“It's a date.”

The weather had turned cold and wet a few nights back and it wasn’t letting up for nothing. Zipping up his jacket, Dean ducked his head down and didn’t run to the car. Running just got you wetter. Besides, there was a pleasant belief that the rainwater was rinsing off a few layers of doctor office from his skin.

If he had been paying attention he would have noticed someone sitting on the hood with no umbrella.

“Hi, Alec,” Dean dug for the keys. “How are you doin’?”

Giving no response, Alec continued to get as wet as the black paint.

“You could have come inside you know,” Dean said. “It’s a lot drier.”

“They don’t allow visitors into the examining room.”

“I meant the waiting area but—“

“Why are you here?”

Dean let out a controlled sigh.

He actually wanted to ask the kid the same damn question. There were only three doctors in town and this was one on the edge of city limits behind the train tracks. You had to drive an extra five miles off the main drag just get close to it and it was only open when the doc was sober enough show up.

“What’d you do, Alec? Follow me? Do you need a morning after pill? What’s the deal?”

“I could hear the freight train on the phone when you called in late at the shop,” Alec’s fixed gaze flickered over at the tracks behind them. “Kind of sloppy if you ask me but that’s not really the point.“

“I’m here for a checkup. Happens every year just like everyone else.”

Alec slid off the hood and Dean suddenly realized the kid was maybe even more angry than he was.

“You’ve been here three times in two weeks!” Alec shoved him back a step. “That’s no checkup.”

“So you have been following me,” It would have felt better when Alec fell on the hood if Dean hadn’t known that the kid let him to do it. “Look… I’m gonna tell you right now that none of this is a big deal.”

“Oh yeah?” Alec picked himself up. “Then why doesn’t Sam know you’re here either?”

Dean opened his mouth and shut it again.

“Come on,” Alec’s annoyance shifted to bewildered frustration. “Why doesn’t Sam even know?”

“Well, for starters it’s none of his freakin’ business.”

“This town doesn’t use computers for anything!” Alec threw up his hands. “And your doctor’s handwriting is total bullshit.”

“What?”

“I spent most of Saturday trying to find your file,” Alec said. “It figured it was filed under P.”

“W-Wait, yer the one that broke their lock last week?”

“You wanna know what the P stood for?”

“No, not really.”

“ _Pastor’s Brother._ But like I said your physician writes like a brain damaged monkey so it was a total waste of time all ‘round.”

“All right, I’m leaving now.”

“Wait…. what is that?”

“What is what— _shit._ ”

Dean hadn’t even felt Alec remove the slip of paper from his jacket pocket.

“Toprol-XL, 60 tablets.” Alec read the prescription. “Isn’t that a brand name for metoprolol succinate?”

Dean didn’t hear a thing when he turned the key in the ignition. Not even a courtesy choke rattling the muffler. He tried to ignore Alec lean down in the open driver’s side window.

“That’s a beta-blocker,” Alec said. “It’s used to regulate heart function.”

Dean snatched the prescription and crumpled it back into a pocket.

“What’s wrong with your heart?”

Spotting pieces of his engine and all the spark plugs laying in a neat row on the sidewalk, Dean kicked the door open. Jacking the transmission to guarantee a conversation wasn’t exactly foolproof. The road was nothing but one washed out trench of rainwater but it was a great day for a hike.

Alec fell in a few steps behind him

“Dean, what’s wrong with your heart?“

“It’s not my heart,” Dean mumbled. “And before you ask any more questions, let me remind you what I said about it being none of no one’s business.”

“It’s your blood pressure then isn’t it?”

Dean tensed before he could stop himself.

“Why didn’t you say so in the first place?” Alec squelched faster behind him in the mud. “That’s a common condition that’s easily managed with lifestyle and the proper medication—“

He swung around fast enough to catch the kid off guard. “You follow me here. You screw up my car. Now yer gonna tell me all about my problems too?”

“G-Good recap,” Alec had been momentarily startled but he didn’t step back. “But Dean, you have to understand…. as we age, we tend to find our bodies may start to change in ways we never expected.“

“I didn’t change,” Dean got back to walking. “The job did. Everything is just different.”

“You’re tellin’ me,” Alec breathed a laugh. “You should have seen me back in the day.”

The words made Dean slow his pace a little. The kid hadn’t brought up anything about Manticore in any shape or form since Seattle. For a while it had been easy to help maintain the illusion that everything before the gate had been just a bad dream. If ignoring it completely counted as a form of help.

“Did you know that I had my very own doctor until I was ten?”

In all honesty, Dean had blocked out most of the intel they’d dug up on Alec’s incarceration. Mostly because he hadn’t been able to handle the perfectly worded typeface that described one clinical procedure after another. Report after report, page after page, disc after disc…

“I don’t mean like I had one doctor, I mean that’s all this guy did. His job was me. I was on so many drugs he needed an assistant to keep my regiment straight,” Alec forced another laugh. “Blood pressure, heart rate, lung capacity, muscle growth hormone, name it and I was popping some pill or getting a shot in the ass.”

Dean stared down at the potholes as he moved in an even steady pace.

“So one day I said screw all this,” Alec said. “It was before the Pulse hit so things were still running a little slack around there anyway.”

Dean wondered what ‘slack’ in a place like that could possibly mean.

“I stopped taking the drugs. I flushed the pills, I puked up the hormone smoothies and the shots were tough but I figured out how to be late for check-ins a lot. Man oh man, I thought I had it all worked out.”

Dean took a deep breath and slowly let it go. Smarts or not, it was hard to predict the effect withdrawal could have on the system. Especially when the genius rolling the dice was a frustrated ten-year old kid.

“So I was out in the practice yard and the next thing I knew I was on the ground with full blown cardiac arrest,” Alec’s hand moved absently over his chest. “I remember waking up the next morning in the infirmary and being really… disappointed.”

Dean slowed even further until they were walking side by side again.

“You’d think you’d be able at least to count on your own body, right?” Alec tried to smile. “If you aren’t on your own side and what do you have left.”

There was nothing else said about the paper Dean had crumpled in his pocket. He waited for some more questions about the state of his vascular system or his average blood volume, but there were none of those either. Walking with a quiet but anxious presence at his shoulder reminded Dean a lot of taking walks with someone else.

“It could be worse tho, right?” Alec asked. “At least you don’t have to take male enhancement drugs.”

Dean’s grip on the keys got painful.

“A least not yet,” Alec added. “But I should warn you that blood pressure medication can totally mess with the plumbing.”

“I have an idea, Alec.”

Alec waited dutifully as he swiped away the rainwater from his eyes.

“Why don’t you run on back,” Dean suggested. “Fix the car and then drive off a cliff.”

“In Minnesota?” Alec returned the grin. “I guess I could build one out of a bunch of lemon curd bars.”

“Now yer thinkin’.”


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Dean POV. Alec-n-Dean vs. The Wildlife (aka rat phobia and some other stuff that will make you puke in the back of your mouth a little)_

It was a perfect day for a raccoon hunt.

Or violent death by tornado.

Dean took a few steps backwards when the roof on the old tool shed floated onto its side for a second before crashing back down into place. Their house on the only hill in town gave a nice view of the thunderstorm hanging low across the shallow valley. Along with some light to moderately sized hail, the streaks of lightening were accompanied with a steady rain that soaked nice and slow through Dean’s jacket.

“W-Why can’t we just shoot the raccoons?” Alec panted. “Why aren’t we doing that?”

“I don’t know,” Dean replied miserably. “This way is just… better?”

“Better for who?” Alec demanded. “The raccoons? That’s all this is better for. They rob the Twinkies of the damn traps and then they move back in. They’re mocking us!”

Hands on his hips, Alec was breathlessly pacing the muddy church drive with his T-shirt flipped over his head and onto his shoulders for some cool down. But despite having looked like he’d just completed a couple uphill triathlons, the kid had only been trying to be fast enough to chase well-fed scavengers from their comfy abodes in the church rafters.

Over and over and over again.

Dean was getting winded just watching him.

Alec pointed in interest as an ancient oak tree listing to one side finally gave way in the gusting wind. With a groan, it began to slowly crash through the branches around it until it struck the forest floor with a boom.

“Look, let’s just go around and try again!” Dean shouted over the noise. “We’ll flush them out through the graveyard and nail ‘em.”

Alec kicked in a dented chicken wire trap before doing what he was told.

Dean got himself in place with the rucksack and got ready to bag a pissed off raccoon. To mix it up a little he moved further down the hill and closer to the tiny bridge behind the church’s boneyard. The dirt road that ran by usually had a calm stream meandering next to it. But overnight torrential rains had turned it into a small river of runoff, choking the bridge with tree wreckage and everything else that had gotten caught in the flow.

Alec appeared on the church steps with no raccoons fleeing in terror in his wake.

“Anything?” Alec held out his hands. “Not a single one?”

“They don’t wanna play,” Dean hadn’t even seen the fat gray one this time. “Must be the weather.”

“Pussies.” Alec slammed the church doors closed.

Dean turned his attention back towards the road crumbling on either side of the bridge. As much as he wanted the church Pest-Free, he was more concerned about the crappy streets that crisscrossed through the town. Decent highway maintenance had gone the way of most 21st century contrivances after 09’ and there were a few people out there that might get stranded if their strip of asphalt didn’t hold up.

“You want to try again?” Dean asked.

“Only if we get to use rifles this time,” Alec was sniffing the air in distraction as if he could smell something besides churned up soil and fresh tree sap. “Or that landmine I saw in your room.”

Another big oak fell across the road and brought down a few pines with it.

Dean had a tricked out pickup that was as almost as good as a boat with chains on the tires. It might be a good idea to load up the kid and some flashlights and see if anyone out there might need a helping han—

“I hear something.” Alec wandered closer to the bridge.

“Hear what?”

“How can you not hear that?”

All Dean could hear was the roar of runoff and the rumble of thunder overhead.

“That right there,” Alec paused on the edge of the eroded road and searched the drainage ditch. “Down there.”

“Hey,” Dean frowned when Alec teetered on the crumbling embankment. “What are you doin’?”

Alec jumped.

Tossing aside the raccoon sack, Dean quickly closed the distance between himself and the ditch. What used to be a couple of feet down to a calm pebbled stream had risen up to the tree line. There was now a steep drop down to the rocks and brown water that thrashed white and quick, battering against logs and other debris jammed under bridge. The kid was nowhere to be found.

Confused, Dean looked around to see if Alec hadn’t gotten downstream somehow.

“Hey!” Dean slid down into the mud. “Where are you!”

“I’m in here!”

He heard Alec’s voice echo and suddenly realized the kid had crawled into the narrow concrete drain that ran under the road.

“I found it!” Alec let his knees break his fall on the muddy gravel as he slid back out. “Look!”

Dean leaned over to see Alec’s find despite himself. The kid helped by standing up straight and holding his cupped hands directly under his uncle’s face.

It was small, it was filthy and it had a thin bony tail.

“Jesus!” Dean stumbled backwards. “Fuck. Fucking... FUCK.”

Alec quickly withdrew the squirming animal in his hands.

“Get rid of it!” Dean held the back of his hand against his mouth. “Now!”

“Why?” Alec slipped and slid his way back up onto the road. “What for?”

“The world doesn’t need anymore damn rats!”

“It’s not a rat,” Alec carefully wiped some mud off its matted fur. “It’s a cat.”

Dean hesitantly dropped his raised fist.

He narrowed his eyes on the clump of wriggling sludge. The kid was right. The tiny animal plucked from the drain wasn’t vermin. It was a drenched baby feline. It let out a terrified mewl that exposed sharp white teeth.

“Correct me if I’m wrong,” Dean crossed his arms. “But don’t those things usually come in six-packs?”

Alec quickly shoved the kitten into Dean’s hands and jumped back over the side. He came back up a lot faster than he had before. He was also suddenly in a big hurry to get away from the ditch. “There were a couple more.”

Dean thought it was interesting that the kid was having trouble with the word dead.

“Come on,” Dean wondered if any of the kindling by the porch was still dry. “Let’s go make a fire and get something to eat.”

Dean handed Alec his jacket and the kid gratefully pulled it on. He had gotten a little more than soaked crawling around in the storm runoff. Zipping up the front, Alec stuck the cat in the front for the short ride home.

“Don’t get too chummy,” Dean warned. “’Cause we ain’t keeping that thing.”

“I want to keep it.”

“We’re not what you’d call pet people.”

“What’s that mean?“

“It means we travel for long periods of time and I’m pretty sure that dude doesn’t know how to work a microwave.”

“Pastor Jim takes care of all sorts of things,” Alec said. “Keeping a litter box clean can’t be that different from sweeping off the steps.”

“Forget it.”

“It sure would be a nice wake up call for all those bastards livin’ it up in the church tho?” Alec smiled. “This guy could do some serious crowd control I bet. Look at him! He’s a killer. I can totally tell.”

Dean glanced back at the kitten’s wet head sticking out of the jacket.

“Besides, he would live outside and make the world his toilet!” Alec said. “Eatin’ coons. Drinkin’ holy water all day. It would be the life.”

“And when he kicks it we can always use its parts.”

“It’d be like recycling!”

“That brings us to the greatest flaw in your grand plan,” Dean shook his head. “Sam’s not gonna want the fleabag either.”

“Sure he will.”

“He hates cats.”

“He does?” Alec bit at his lip. “But he's so diplomatic with houseflies.“

“Long story but I’ll keep it short,” Dean wondered who he was kidding. “Ya see, back when your dad and me were kids we used to have to live in some pretty gnarly trailer parks. That crap unto itself made for some pretty good times, but this park was owned by a Madame running a brothel out the back and her trailer always reeked because she kept dead cats lined up in the windows to keep the cops away. So one day Sam and me decide to go in there to see if she kept any loose cash around and—“

“Sam will change his mind when he sees Killer.”

They walked in silence for a few minutes.

“What is it with your thing with dead cats anyway?” Alec mumbled. “It’s weird.”

“Dunno,” Dean ripped up the tarp under the porch and felt around for dry firewood. “Hazard of the trade I guess.”

“ _Aw, man!_ ”

Dean turned at the sound of Alec’s exasperated outrage. Now that they were a safe distance away and half way through the front door, the church step was now filled with half a dozen curious raccoons.

“Yeah, right!” Alec shouted at them. “Wait till Killer is on the case! You won’t be all... all full of smiles and Twinkies then!”

Standing on hind legs to take stock of the storm damage, the raccoons didn’t appear to be that concerned by anyone new on the payroll. Dean hit the door frame when Alec shouldered past him into the house.

“None of the rifles are loaded,” Dean said. “And are you really ready for that kind of escalation in violence? We get guns, then they get guns, we start taking hostages, they start tak—“

“I’m just getting started on Phase B.”

Dean watched Alec carefully monitor the bathroom sink’s water output. The kitten didn’t seem to care for water no matter what temperature it was, but with most of the mud off it did start to look less and less rat like.

“What’s Phase B?” Dean asked.

“I-I’m not sure yet,” Alec scrubbed the snarling kitten with liquid hand soap. “But it’s gonna kick ass.”

Dean had an even better plan. It involved dry pants, dry socks and a toasty old bathrobe. If he played it right there might even be a few beers and his brother sitting around for a game of cards. Dean had even saved the last Twinkie to split right down the middle.

Stretching out stiff arms and legs, he wondered if the rifles weren’t such a bad idea.

At least they would’ve had some dinner to show for it.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Sam POV. Sam's duties as Pastor extend past the average clergyman's capabilities. Warning: This one is not fluffy._

Sam had always disliked the sight and scent of lilies.

The heavy perfume hovered on the edge of sickening and the drooping petals were grotesque to the touch. Packing half a ton of them into one room didn’t do much to enhance the experience either.

“Everything looks real nice, Pastor,” a man gave Sam a firm handshake. “Really first rate.”

“It’s nice to see you here. Have you signed the guest book?”

“Sure did,” he glanced uncomfortably at the open casket. “Real sad thing to have happened.”

Sam nodded.

“About that,” the man stepped a little closer. “Is it true?”

Feigning ignorance, Sam stifled the urge to clear his throat.

“Ya see, father, there’s talk going around that the mailman found her before the police did.”

“I’m sorry, I haven’t read today’s paper yet.“

“But everyone’s sayin’ the paper made that stuff up about finding her in bed. People are saying that her body was really found in the bathroom—“

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” Sam gestured towards new arrivals at the door. “If you’ll excuse me?”

The viewing hours had ended promptly at 7PM, but no one was leaving. Some of the flower arrangements were removed to make space until it was standing room only. Someone had set up several photo collages of the deceased in large picture frames. The local quilting club had hung one of her pieces of work on the far wall over the window.

Sam braced himself when the family finally came to approach him.

“Pastor Samuel,” a young woman whispered. “This was what my mother wanted so much.”

He placed a hand on her shoulder and fought the urge to immediately remove it. Her pain was burning so brightly it scorched his skin. Sam withdrew his shaking hand and tried to replace it back at his side as causally as possible.

“I can’t tell you what this means to our family,” she said. “All she ever wanted was to be buried here on the grounds.”

Looking into her bloodshot eyes Sam knew what she was really struggling to thank him for. Due to doctrine some bodies did not get the privilege of resting in consecrated ground. Crime. Sin. Blasphemy. There was a long list designed to deny the faithful their heavenly reward.

“I’ve arranged a place beside her mother and grandmother,” Sam said. “I’m very honored to have been asked to deliver the eulogy.”

The desperate hope in the daughter’s eyes shone strongly despite the frail trembling of her hunched shoulders. This woman was well aware that Sam knew of the nature of her mother’s death. She knew that a devout man of the cloth could deny her mother’s remains the shade of this sanctuary and let the family go elsewhere.

“Thank you, Samuel,” she sagged into the arms of her husband. “Thank you for this.”

Sam watched them take their rightful seats in the first row nearest the casket. Another surge of grief rippled across the room and made his head swim. Sam swayed and steadied himself against the wall when the hushed voices got stronger. The overlapping echoes began to amplify across the small parlor like an open amphitheater. But it wasn’t any physical noise he was hearing, it was the mourner’s collective grief flaring up and over into the dark, crashing against him in wave after relentless wave.

“Sam?”

“Alec,” Sam hadn't seen him come in. “What are you doing here?”

“I really dig live harp music.”

Sam couldn’t smile at the joke and Alec didn’t look all that amused either. It occurred to him that Alec had been drawn to the wake by the vibe that was building up around here. His son had never exhibited any signs of being able to do it before, but Sam had also been inadvertently collecting over a hundred people’s distress around him like a storm cloud.

It was probably difficult to ignore less than hundred yards away in the house.

“I’m sorry, Alec,” Sam rubbed at his head. “I think you can… I think you can hear me.”

“I can hear them too,” Alec flipped through the guest book and let it drop closed. “It’s loud.”

“They’ll be leaving soon,” Sam said. “Why don’t you go back up to the house?”

“Okay,” Alec responded absently. “But is that gonna be sitting here all night?”

“Not much longer,” Sam looked over at the casket. “The burial is at dawn.”

“That thing gives me the creeps.”

“Good night, Alec.”

His son was still staring at the coffin.

“Alec?”

“Yeah,” Alec blinked a few times. “See ya later.”

Waiting until Alec had left, Sam returned to the casket to make sure everything was still in order. The family had chosen a yellow silk dress that made her pale skin look even more pallid and hollow. Smoothing the orchid corsage on her wrists, his fingertips brushed the rough line of vertical sutures that the flowers had meant to conceal. Everyone knew there were some acts against God that were unpardonable. But Sam believed in a slightly different variation of the cardinal rules.

And in this church, forgiveness would always come first.

 

 

 

 

Sleep was impossible no matter how much Sam needed it.

The crowd of people that had packed the church left their grief behind like the scent of snuffed votives. Sorrow and anger had built up on the premises like a lethal dose of carbon monoxide, seeping out of the ground and flooding every room. Dean hadn’t been able to feel it like Sam had, but Dean could feel Sam just fine. Before midnight rolled around his brother jumped into the car and took off for a better time elsewhere.

Sam rolled around in bed and tried to shut his eyes.

It would have been an effort to siphon off the flood of sensations but he could have done it. Sam did it everyday just to survive being around other people without going crazy. He could ease off the constant barrage of emotion just as easily as he could turn it up to examine it in sharp focus. And he didn’t feel like shutting it off right now. He had kept the stream wide open, flowing and escaping through his fingers like sand. But it wasn’t the churning cloud of grief he was interested in. Tonight he couldn’t stop thinking about the body waiting in the church’s basement.

She was still earth-bound.

Reaching out, Sam could sometimes offer comfort to the shy and fearful presences that fluttered just beyond his touch. He wasn’t sure if any of them listened, but every now and then the murmur of their agitation grew calm.

Sam went still when he heard the spirit whisper forlornly in his ear.

When he allowed himself to sink deeper he could touch the cold surface of what had just recently housed a warm breathing soul. There was a small glimmer of the woman still lingering nearby for now, waiting for the ceremony to be completed before it departed completely. All that was left was a dull echo of what had been a human being, a few traces left of the agony that had driven her to end her own life.

_Loneliness.  
Empty.  
Hopelessness.  
Empty.  
Make it stop.  
Make it stop.  
Oh please God, make it stop—_

Sam stared at the red glow of the digital clock.

He could see the woman too if he wanted. She’d lived in a tidy house without much furniture or light. Her bedroom window faced the road. All of her grandchildren’s photos were neatly framed and hung down the staircase wall.

A sound distracted him.

The bathroom door down the hall opened and then was followed by the whine of a faucet. Reaching out with his hand and mind, Sam brushed Alec’s thoughts that were drifting just out of sight. He caught a flash of ceramic tile. The humid rise of steam from the sink. He could feel Alec’s awareness of his father watching him. Hot water was thundering down into the bathtub now.

Something was wrong.

Stepping outside of his room, Sam walked around discarded jeans, and followed the trail of Alec’s clothes. The bathroom light at the end of the hall flickered on and off before it stayed dark.

“Alec?”

As soon as the name left Sam’s mouth a sharp pain stabbed behind his eyes.

_Make it stop.  
Make it stop.  
Make it stop._

Fumbling for the light switch, he found Alec lying in the filling bathtub. Sam felt his heart skip in his chest when he realized what Alec was holding in his hand.

“No,” Sam said. “Please, don't.”

The razor blade was identical to the one the woman had used. The metal was bent and cracked into a jagged triangle. Everything in the bathroom had been arranged like Sam had seen in his mind. A candle on the bathtub. The towel folded on the sink. A bible open on the floor. The long slash that started at the wrist and ended under the elbow.

Alec was recreating that detail with a slow blank determination that wasn’t his own.

“Alec,” Sam stepped forward. “Put that down.”

There was already one perfect incision and Alec was pushing in the razor blade to make another one right next to it.

“This won’t take long,” Alec’s voice was dull. “I read that the water helps.”

Sam forced himself to stay still in the doorway. He was unwilling to make an aggressive move on an X5 and he was even more unwilling to attempt to subdue Alec the other way. His son could do a lot more damage with his head than with any blade.

“Can you hear me, Alec? It’s me. It’s Sam.”

“All my children have moved away,” tears flowed down Alec’s vacant face. “No one should have to live all alone.”

Blinking in confusion, Sam knew he was witnessing some kind of possession. It was a half formed phantom playing out its last moments on earth.

“Alec! Look at me!”

The house, the church, it had all been filled to the rafters with a fog of sorrow so thick you could choke on it. Sam knew how to ward it off as easily as opening the windows to clear the air, but he hadn’t thought about what it might do to Alec. It hadn’t occurred to him that his son might be overwhelmed by it as easily as smoke from a fire.

“T-This is my fault,” Sam stammered. “I made a mistake.”

“It’s hard to sleep alone,” Alec absently wiped his bloody arm across his face. “It gets so quiet at night.”

_Make it stop.  
Make it stop.  
Make it stop._

Sam staggered backwards when the dead woman’s voice rang clear and urgent.

_Make it stop.  
Make it stop.  
Make it—_

Sam took the moment of her hysteria to grab Alec’s hand. He met no resistance when he ripped the razor away, grimacing at the splash of scalding water cloudy with blood.

“A-Alec? _Hey! Alec!_ ”

Alec slid limply backwards and made a strangling sound as the ghost tried to use him to speak again.

Sam had had enough.

Closing his eyes, he let out a breath and slammed his mind downwards like a hammer. He shuddered as it surged in every direction and drove away any trace of the lingering spirit. Pushing it as hard as he could without bringing the house down, the force of it sent a wind crashing through the trees and a dull rumble in the sky.

Sam listened to himself pant in the dark until the light over the mirror sputtered back on.

It was over.

Quickly grabbing one of the towels off the sink, he wrapped it tight around Alec’s arm before lifting him out of the water. Dean’s room was closer and the bed was conveniently devoid of sheets. Alec started to come to when Sam cracked the first aid kit and the bottle of alcohol.

“W-What happened?” Alec rasped. “What...“

Sam pushed Alec down gently with a hand on his chest. Alec immediately stilled but the fear in his eyes remained.

“What did you do?” Alec hands shook as he tried to sit up. “You did something.”

“Alec please stay still, you’re hurt.”

“Don’t touch me!”

Sam met Alec's bewildered stare and felt his chest tighten by the sight of the betrayal in his son's eyes.

“I heard you,” Alec said. “I-I was in my room and I heard you talking to that dead lady. And then she kept getting louder and louder. So-So I started listening too and... and...”

“I had no idea this was going to happen,” Sam felt pain start to grind behind his eyes again. “I’ve never lived with someone like you... like us. Please Alec, I don’t understand how all this works yet.”

Alec was silent as Sam threaded a needle for the stitches.

“We’ll talk about it tomorrow,” Sam told him. “I want you to try to get some rest.”

“I don’t want to.”

Sam didn’t warn Alec before he did it. One flash of power, one snap of his fingers and he could make almost anyone drop off into dreamland if that’s what he wanted. Pulling up the blankets around Alec’s chest, Sam wished he’d dried him off before putting him down.

Sam tossed a blood soaked towel into the trash.

The peak of his adrenaline finally crested and crashed, leaving him clutching the wastebasket until he knew he wasn’t going to throw up. With slow measured breaths, Sam willed his heart to stop pounding and beat at a normal steady pace.

He had some work to do before Dean got back.

With a glance at his watch, he knew he had plenty of time to perform a quick and dirty cremation. No one would be the wiser if they buried an empty coffin tomorrow. And if Dean noticed the casket was a little light, Sam would lie about how cheap the wood was. His hand lingered on Alec’s forehead, the boy’s frown not quite smoothed away in the forced slumber. If Sam pushed harder he could provide more than a deep sleep.

He could make all the memories go away too.

“I’m sorry,” Sam felt his mouth pull in a humorless smile. “But this is for your own good.”

Alec made a soft sound as Sam smoothed his palms over the boy’s eyes. The injuries could be explained away. The bathroom cleaned up before anyone saw a thing. Sam could make it all better for now.

And right now was all that mattered.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Dean POV. After a night of unusual events, everyone in the house is on edge and Dean wants to know why. Warning: Only thing fluffy in this one is the kitten._

Dean considered it a sign of truly arriving in life when he no longer had to endure silences if he didn’t want to.

He dropped his plate loudly on the kitchen table and straddled a seat.

When he was growing up he’d learned real early on that keeping your mouth shut and staying under the radar did you a lot of favors. But spending a childhood striving to be invisible hadn’t been all fun and games. In fact, sometimes Dean wanted to start making as much noise as he could until everyone within a hundred-mile radius knew he was there.

“Hey, Alec?” Dean had to speak up to be heard over the television. “You awake?”

“No.”

There was a weird vibe in the house despite the bright and sunny morning hidden behind all the drawn curtains. Apparently at some time the night before, the window in the upstairs bathroom had been broken. More specifically, it had been shattered into pieces by Alec shoving a fist through it. The really interesting part was that the kid claimed to have had no memory whatsoever of having done the deed.

As if shit didn’t get exciting enough around here.

Gulping down some lemonade, Dean wondered at the genuine confusion on Alec’s face as the kid had tried to explain. He had heard of walking and talking in your sleep, but he’d never heard of punching in windows. Alec’s arm was pretty messed up too. Sort of. That part didn’t make much sense either. The wound that traveled from wrist to elbow was a little too straight and perfect for a round trip through plate glass. But that wasn’t all Dean had missed last night.

He looked at the back door, wide open and blowing a warm breeze in from the yard.

There was also the patch of burnt ground that Sam thought he’d hidden out of sight back in the cornrows. The scorch lines were about the right size for a cremation and just far enough from the house to make it unlikely to be noticed by anyone. And nobody would have either if Dean hadn’t been out there looking for the minuscule cat whose only discernible use so far was finding holes to get stuck in.

“How ‘bout you Sammy?” Dean asked. “You alive?”

“What?”

“Nothin’.”

Looked like no one was in the mood to do much talking.

Glancing over his shoulder to make sure everyone was still preoccupied with the TV, Dean flipped open his sandwich and covertly removed a layer of meat. He dangled it under his chair and got ready for some action. He didn’t have to wait long for the little tabby to come out of nowhere and savagely tackle the cold cut like the weakest wildebeest on edge of the herd.

Dean flung more baloney in different directions.

The fur ball was better than a dust buster. He tossed another piece upwards just to see the freak snatch it right out of mid-air. Of course the bastard wouldn’t touch the two-ton sack of dog chow Dean had lugged from a few towns over, but who would when it rained lunch meat three times a day.

“The rest is mine,” he shook the cat off his boot. “Go gank a mouse.”

Ignoring its stealthy maneuvers to follow him to his room, Dean had to admit, after he got over his fear of stepping on the thing it wasn’t that bad to have around. Sometimes it would puff up and run around like it was on fire, but besides a few over turned beer bottles there was no harm done.

He pushed the curtain back to look out at the cremation spot concealed by the waving corn stalks.

“And I’m not callin’ you Killer,” Dean let the curtain fall back into place. “So just forget about it.” The kitten clambered up the side of his bed, using grappling hook claws in the quilt to achieve the summit. It explored all the pillows before finding one flat enough to park on. “Because it’s stupid for one thing,” he explained. “And you look more like an Ozzie to me. Maybe a Zappa—”

“Dean?”

Dean quickly grabbed a basket of laundry off his floor. “Hey, Sam,” he gave a smile. “Just thought I’d do a load of whites and then I realized, hey, I don’t have any whites.“

“I need to talk to you,” Sam shut the door and locked it behind him. “You got a minute?”

Dean had predicted that his brother would eventually pony up on the truth about last night, but he was still relieved he wasn’t going have to do the asking. Sam paced back and forth a few times before he let out a deep breath and sank into a chair by the window.

“I’m worried, Dean.”

“Yeah?” he said carefully. “What about?”

“I think we should go see Bobby. Maybe let him run a few tests on Alec.”

It took a few moments before Dean understood what he’d just heard. He’d been expecting something more along the lines of an explanation for burning human remains in their backyard. Not a trip down to South Dakota. “Tests? Are you out of your freakin’ mind? I think the last thing this kid needs is any more tests.”

“He hurt himself,” Sam said. “What if he does it again? What if I can’t help him? What if—“

“You said yourself that he’s gotten better at keeping it reeled in. And hey, I’m not getting sucker punched in the brain every time he gets bummed out by a sad commercial anymore. That’s progress right?”

“I think we should bring him over to Lafayette too,” Sam clasped his hands in tight fists in his lap. “You know there’s about three wards he should be wearing.”

With a sigh, Dean took a seat on the edge of the bed. Sam had a good point about the tattoos. They should have gotten the kid inked the second they left Seattle.

“And what about all the other stuff, Dean? There are at least five rituals that we haven’t even talked about yet. And now… and now the sleep walking stuff? I’m just sayin’ that we don’t know what could happen next and we have to do everything we can to keep Alec safe—“

Sam suddenly went quiet.

They both turned their heads at the telltale creak on the floorboards just outside in the hallway. The kid was talented but he still couldn’t quite achieve weightlessness.

“We can hear you,” Dean called out. “Come on in.”

With a jolt, the formally locked door swung open with Alec jerking the doorknob in mild offense. He held his gauze wrapped arm close to his chest and eyed them both warily. “If you wanna leave me out of it you should try a little harder.”

“No one’s leavin’ you outta anything,” Dean said. “We’re just talking.”

Dean thought it would have been a perfect moment for Sam to back him up on that one but his brother kept strangely quiet. Alec took a step backwards into the hallway and looked like he was ready to take off.

“It’s all right to be mad, Alec,” Dean patted the bed and waved Alec in. “You oughta be. We should have sat down and had a talk about all this psychic crap a long time ago.”

Alec came in and took a reluctant seat next to him.

Dean waited once again for his brother to jump in to begin the awkward discussion on their fun-filled demonic heritage. All this mental mind magic was his brother’s turf and Dean was happy to let him handle it.

But Sam didn’t say a thing.

Alec held his bandaged arm closer to his chest when Sam did nothing but continue to stare out the window. Dean shook the spastic kitten off his bleeding hand and tried not to grind his teeth.

“So…” Dean cleared his throat. “So you’ve got this… uh… you’ve got a gift.”

“Oh man,” Alec groaned. “Look, forget the talk, I’ll just read the bible a couple hundred more times. Maybe some Black Sabbath lyrics would help.“

“Fine, forget the ‘gift.’ The ‘gift’ is stupid,” Dean said. “But you got… something and it’s yours. It’s not going away so you gotta make do with it the best you can.”

Alec’s posture sagged with the fear he’d been trying to keep hidden under his annoyance. “I’m trying to but… but what if I can’t? I mean, last night I—“

“Sam’s been living with this stuff for a long time and if his sorry ass can figure it out than you can too. But we also have a few friends that know a lot more about this kinda thing. So we were thinkin’ maybe, if you wanted, that this guy Bobby might be able to lend a hand.”

“A hand at what?”

“Well, for starters you need to start considering a few new upgrades,” Dean patted his chest over the tat that Alec made fun of whenever he saw it. “I know it’s not exactly kick ass but this thing is better than body armor.”

“I don’t want any lame tattoos.”

“All I’m askin’ is that you think about it,” Dean said. “That’s all.”

Alec rubbed absently at the back of his neck.

“You know you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.”

“I know.”

Dean leaned down to look at Alec’s face when the kid wouldn’t meet his eyes. “What’s the problem, Alec? Talk to me.”

Alec stared down at floor. “If I did something pretty bad… what would… would I have to leave? Like live somewhere else or something?”

“What are you talking about?”

“I think it was my fault.”

Dean felt an uncomfortable sensation growing in the pit of his stomach. “W-What was?”

“The window, my arm, everything!” Alec said miserably. “I don’t think I was sleep walking.”

Sam suddenly sat forward and gripped Alec’s knee hard. Dean was glad his brother finally decided to join the party but he didn’t like the look on Sam’s face. He looked as scared as Alec was.

“Why would you say something like that?” Sam asked. “It-It was just an accident.”

“No, it wasn’t,” Alec looked back and forth between them, his eyes glittering wet in frustration. “I-I was hanging around that funeral after you told me not to and I… I haven’t been taking all the tryptophan I’m supposed to take either. It messes up my dreams pretty bad. I think that’s why I broke that window and I think it’s why I… I think it’s why I did something else.”

“Something else?” Sam was pale. “You didn’t do anything else. You just broke a window that’s all.”

“In my room,” Alec dragged an arm across his eyes. “I found a box of razor blades. My pillow was all cut up. My sheets. My mattress. Why would I do that?”

“Okay, okay,” Dean squeezed Alec’s shoulder and realized the kid was shaking. “Just take it easy.”

“I swear I don’t remember taking them but I must have right? What if I tried to hurt somebody and Sam hadn’t heard me break the window? I haven’t been taking the pills and it's all my fault—“

“Alec,” Sam moved to the bed on the other side of him. “From now on just- just try to stay on the tryptophan okay? It’s really important.”

“Yes, sir.” Alec mumbled.

Dean didn't try to stop him when he got up and left the room.

He thought Sam would start talking again as soon as Alec’s footsteps faded off the back porch. When the car engine started and the tires trailed away on the gravel Dean was still patiently waiting Sam to finally open his mouth and spill already.

His patience ran out.

“So you gonna tell me what the hell is going on around here?”

“Alec is still learning,” Sam sounded as tired as he looked. “It’s going to take some time before he knows his limits and… and restrictions.”

“That’s not what I mean,” Dean said. “I mean last night. There’s a whole lot of somethin’ you aren’t sharing.”

“I told you, I woke up when I heard the window break. When I got to the bathroom I found Alec bleeding—“

“Yeah, I heard that story already. But I’m more interested in the fire.”

Sam’s distracted gaze hardened into something else.

“Doing some cremations right here at home these days?” Dean asked. “I hope you let the family know to look for the extra service charge on the funeral bill.”

“Dean—“

“Why’d you burn that lady? What are you so scared of?”

Sam slowly stood up.

“It’s gonna be like this huh?” Dean stood up too. “You can’t even create decent bullshit to shut me up?”

“I tried,” Sam sighed. “But you never believe anything I make up.”

“Years of practice.”

“Dean, I’m sorry.”

“Huh?”

Dean realized Sam had backed him up into the corner of the room furthest from the door. He was about to ask what Sam was so tragically sorry about when his back bumped into the wall. At the exact same moment his brother’s hands lightly touched his face. Dean gasped when a flash of light blinded him momentarily and his knees went out from under him. But he didn’t hit the floor.

“I got you, Dean,” Sam was laying him down on the bed. “You have to trust me, okay?”

Dean tried to answer but he was having trouble moving his mouth.

“You’ll wake up later and remember we all had a talk about going to see Bobby,” Sam pressed his hand gently against Dean’s forehead. “You’ll remember that Alec cut himself sleep walking and that we all agreed he has to start taking his pills more regularly.”

“S-Sam?”

“You’ll remember we had a fight about the tattoos but we settled on letting Alec decide for himself. You won’t remember you found a cremation. You won’t remember asking me about the ashes. You won’t remember anything about that at all.”

Dean couldn’t keep his eyes open.

“What-what did you do, Sammy?”

“I messed up, Dean,” Sam’s voice shook. “But I’m gonna fix it.”


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Sam POV. Sam recalls the first time he ever made anyone forget._

Sam lay down next to Dean on the narrow bed and watched him all night.

Every now and then he touched the glimmer of his brother’s dreaming mind to reassure himself that nothing was wrong. Dean’s chest rose and fell as he peacefully slept with that little cat nestled comfortably in the curve of his neck and shoulder. As the hours passed, Sam accidentally brushed against the tiny flicker of the cat a few times, the flutter of its own dream swift and bright with sunlight through tall green grass. Letting his fingers linger in its tiger striped fur, Sam tried Alec’s phone again but he knew his son wouldn’t pick up. He left a message instead.

Come home soon.

Just come home.

If Sam pushed hard enough he could see the glare of the headlights lighting up the walls of corn on either side of the dirt road Alec was driving down. If he pushed a little harder he could even feel the dull ache from the cut of the razor. Dean groaned when his hazy dreams suddenly sharpened into a crystal clear vision of Alec slowly drawing the thin blade across his flesh.

“No,” Sam muttered. “Damn it. _No._ ”

He couldn’t let his mind wander. Not now. Making a fist, he willed away Dean’s dream and replaced it with nothing at all. His brother settled back down and let out a sigh before the steady shallow cadence of breathing resumed. Sam rolled onto his back and tried to think about something else. But all he could think about was the first time he’d ever messed with anyone’s head.

The very first time he’d done it had been an accident.

It had also been just over ten years ago to the day.

He could still feel that scorching summer heat out in the middle of the Nevada desert. It had all started with a package from Bobby arriving early in the morning to their motel room. Sam had sat looking at the box for an hour before Dean took it from him and opened it. Inside was all the intel they had ever needed to authenticate the existence of a ten year old boy with the designation of X5-331845739494.

Alec.

The government hard drive Bobby had appropriated was filled with countless reports on X5-494’s kill ratios, injury stats and pedagogic aptitude tests. Dates of surgery. Tags for exceptional performance. Notation for disciplinary action. The only information missing from the reams of hideous detail was a way to find him.

Sam was disturbed from his thoughts when Dean stirred in his sleep.

They had driven all day after looking through those reports. Driving fast to nowhere at all. Sam remembered that they were both so angry that they wanted to hurt someone but all they had was each other. Dean had pulled over so they could stop the shouting match in the car and turn their frustration into a physical fight. But they didn’t get very far because as soon as Sam grabbed his brother by the shoulder to take a swing, he also made a wish right out loud under the hot desert sky.

And then it happened.

One second Sam was shouting in his brother’s face and then next thing Sam knew he was back riding shot gun in the car. Staring at the passing roadside, it took a full minute before it sunk in that he’d lost time. Flashes of the fight on the cracked asphalt came back to him in bits and pieces. He figured out soon enough that Dean didn’t recall any of it at all. His brother didn’t remember pulling the car over or even getting in the right hook that almost dislocated Sam’s jaw. But Sam had known right then and there that he had been responsible. Somehow he had erased both of their heads with one burst of emotion that he hadn’t been able to control. He thought about telling Dean but he never knew how to explain it.

So as the years went by he never did.

The next time he worked the magic had been on a cop who pulled him over when he’d been driving alone. The third was a woman who’d had witnessed the death of her infant son. The fourth was a kid behind a cash register when Sam didn’t have enough money. He couldn’t count how many other times it had happened between the very first and Alec, but he had never again purposefully applied the ploy to his brother.

Until now.

And when Dean went down this time it’d barely even felt like trying.

Sam got up off the bed when his brother’s consciousness started to naturally drift back up towards waking. He went to the kitchen and emptied a case of beer in the sink so there would be some bottles sitting around for Dean to consider along with his headache. Pushing the kitchen window open, he tried to fight back the sensation of the air being too thick to breathe.

He squeezed his eyes shut to the gray glow of dawn.

Alec had succumbed to something Sam had thought was as noxious and harmless as the scent of rotting meat. All Sam wanted right now was Alec to be able to fend off simple phantoms that rose to find living flesh as naturally as the moon pulled the tides. He wanted his son to learn now what it had taken him a lifetime to figure out. He didn’t want every lonely suicide drifting through the ether to turn his child into a playground—

“Hey, Sam.”

He blinked at the sight of Alec standing on the back porch steps.

“Alec,” Sam breathed in surprise. “Hey.”

“I ran out of gas,” Alec said. “I had to walk.” Instead of coming to the door, he sat down on the steps.

The splintered wood under Sam’s bare feet was wet and cold, but the crisp morning cleared his head. He took a seat next to Alec and realized he was glad that he had been surprised by his son’s presence. But Sam’s smile faded as he pushed and couldn’t feel anything coming from his son at all. “Long night,” he ventured. “You must be tired.”

“I guess.”

“Are you hungry?” Sam wanted him to come inside. “I could make some steak and eggs if you want.”

“070891.”

“W-What is that?”

“It’s the serial number from my first handgun,” Alec yanked at the weeds growing up through the stairs. “We were issued our own weapons when we got big enough to carry one.”

Sam clenched his jaw but kept silent.

“I’ve never forgotten anything in my entire life. Even stupid little things that people aren’t supposed to keep around. If I need it, I can look it up. Like… like hitting rewind. But I can’t remember what happened the other night.”

“I told you it was an accident—“

“I don’t think it was,” Alec bounced his knee in agitation. “I think it was my fault and I think I should… I think I—”

“It was a ghost,” Sam quickly said. “From the funeral.”

Alec looked swiftly over at him with dull recognition in his eyes. Sam knew Alec could tap into what he’d experienced the previous day at the wake, but that was all there was before his recall went blank.

“That woman?” Alec asked hopefully. “You think it was that woman?”

“You have to understand that these things… the people you can hear… they have the ability to harm you if you aren’t extremely careful.”

Alec rubbed his arm that was bandaged under the sleeve of his jacket. He suddenly let the anxiety he was holding back surface, his eyes searching the cornfields around them as if anything could emerge from thin air at any moment.

“Alec, stop.” Sam took Alec’s hand and tried to sooth the roar that was growing in his son’s head. “Don’t be afraid.”

Alec didn’t take his hand away.

“I’m not going to let anything happen to you,” Sam told him. “Soon all this stuff will be nothing but radio static. You’ll be able to tune it out and make it into white noise.”

“But—“

“It’s going to be okay, Alec,” Sam decided to say what had been playing back and forth in the back of his mind. “You just need some more training.”

His son looked him hesitantly in the eyes before giving him an uncertain nod. “Like target practice. Right?”

Wondering exactly how he’d be able to provide the instruction Alec needed, Sam suddenly had an idea. “I want you to get some sleep,” he got up and pulled Alec to his feet. “We’re going out tonight.”

Before Alec could ask where, the back door banged open on the rusted hinges. Dean took a few steps out on to the porch, squinting at the sunrise and holding his head.

“Sleep, okay?” Sam squeezed Alec’s hand hard before he let it go. “You look beat.”

“Speak for yourself,” Alec mumbled. “You don’t look so hot either.”

“Where’s the damn car?” Dean demanded.

Easing past his brother, Sam left Alec to explain his evening out.

Shutting his bedroom door behind him, Sam dug out a bottle of pills he kept in the back of his top dresser drawer. He chewed the capsules dry to guarantee the next eight hours would be solid sleep. No light dozing. No laying around in a half-haze. Nothing but a deep dark hole that even his alarm clock couldn’t dig him out of. Until he had a handle on his own head he wasn’t taking any chances. Laying down on the bed, he took out his phone one more time and dialed a number he hadn’t called in a long time. It rang ten times before anyone picked up on the other side.

“It’s Sam Winchester. I’m calling in that favor you owe me.”

The tired man on the other end of the line paused before asking what exactly Sam would be needing.

“I need to get into the county morgue.”

The guy didn’t pause this time when he asked for a time.

“After midnight,” Sam said. “And I’ll be bringing a friend.”

The tug of the drugs lulled his eyes closed as he switched his phone off. Sam needed a few hours of privacy down in that refrigerated basement. But most of all, he needed to show Alec a thing or two about the other side of the family business. As he started to feel himself slip under the edge of sleep, he was glad that he’d taken three times the recommended dosage on the pills.

A few hours of black out were as close to forgetting as Sam could afford to get.

 

continued in part one of 'Not a Whimper'  
https://archiveofourown.org/works/17001399/chapters/39967239


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